


Personal Space

by jenkies81



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #DeansAJerk #WhatElseIsNew, #JustKissDamnit, #OnlyForABit, #WhatHappensWhenSamsAsleep, #behindTheScenes, #damnitcas, #whathappensinpurgatorystaysinpurgatory, Angst, Canon Divergence, Castiel in Purgatory, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Chuck is God, Dean in Denial, Dean in Hell, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fem!Cas, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Lucifer - Freeform, Lucifer is a Little Shit, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Reapers, Season 11, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Unrequited Love, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenkies81/pseuds/jenkies81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has never felt compelled to explore the physical aspect of his relationship with Dean, though he is confident of their love for one another. Dean doesn't talk about his feelings, but neither does Castiel. Everything is business as usual in the Men of Letters bunker until one night,when Castiel decides to seize a unique opportunity and changes his relationship with Dean forever.</p><p>xxx</p><p>Dean’s body went weak and the beer slipped from his hands. Before he could stop himself, his hands latched onto Castiel, one dangerously low on his hip and the other griping tightly at that damn white button down Castiel always insisted on wearing. Dean tugged at the fabric and pressed his lips harder against Cas’. He heard himself make a sound and realized he’d lost total control of his body. Want, relief, love, release, joy, pain, sorrow and 1,000 other emotions were coursing through him without a single thought to stop them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Friday I'm in love

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, I've got more stuff posted on my website: http://captainlilybob.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading! You guys have been so supportive!

Castiel was not a sexual creature. Angels had no need for the primitive physical impulses that seemed to drive humanity. He was not distracted by the appearances of other humans the way the Winchesters were, and until today, he’d considered that a distinct advantage.

Sam was motivated and devoted, and though temptation occasionally got the better of him, Castiel considered Sam’s ability to focus a near match to his own. After a brief struggle with his own humanity when he lost his grace, Castiel developed a new appreciation for the way Sam stayed the course; despite the numerous opportunities he’d had to “settle down” with a woman (human or otherwise).

Dean’s behavior was more primal. After last night, he finally saw his friend in a new light. It explained him in a way Castiel had never considered. He, for a brief moment, glimpsed himself through Dean’s eyes and those familiar thick, murky feelings of humanity slowly snaked through his body once again.

Now, he stood alone in front of a large mirror in a dingy motel room and for the first time, began to critique the physical features of his vessel. His eyes were blue, but perhaps not blue enough. He was tall, but maybe not as tall as Dean would like. Or maybe he was too tall. He shaved, as this seemed to be a ritual modern humans regularly performed, but maybe Dean didn’t like that either. He glanced down a sheet of paper on the sink in front of him. He looked over the numbers written on it. He’d measured his face and features and decided they had a decent symmetry. The woman at the front desk complimented his clothing so he assumed Dean’s reaction was not based on Castiel’s apparel. Overall, he concluded he was not unattractive.

He stared into the tired eyes of his vessel’s reflection. He let the obvious answer seep into his mind and exhaled slowly in acceptance of the truth. Dean was not repulsed by any one of Castiel’s features; Castiel as a whole repulsed him. The angel, the man; they came together to create something Dean had never loved. Castiel was foolish to think he was ever anything more than a guardian to the hunter.

 

 

_Yesterday_

 

 

Sam was having visions again, which made both Dean and Castiel nervous. Castiel knew the brothers were still vulnerable after removing the Mark of Cain from Dean, and this new development could be a sign of more trouble.

He sat at the table in the bunker with the oldest Winchester brother. Sam was sleeping and Dean was taking advantage of his absence to research other explanations for the visions. Dean was worried about his little brother and every little sigh or furrowing of his brow was like a cry for help to Castiel.

He watched his human from the corner of his eye while he pretended to pour through the old and decaying books from the Men of Letters library. Castiel knew the answers were not anywhere in these pages, but the books seemed to comfort Dean, so Castiel indulged him.

He treasured silent moments like this, and under better circumstances, he would be enjoying himself. He and Dean did not need to speak to share their emotions. Castiel knew at a glance what the hunter was thinking or feeling. This was the reason he never felt the need to tell Dean just how much he loved him.

Castiel knew he loved Dean the moment he saw his soul in Hell. It was a beautiful, broken thing; so fragile but so resilient in the blackness of damnation. His mission had been the same as the other angels who entered the pit. They had to restore Michael’s vessel. The Winchester brothers were important and their bodies needed to be kept strong. But something changed when Castiel saw that soul burning, struggling, and fighting with all it had against the pull of the demons. There was no pleasure in the way it tortured others, no hunger for power or lust or death. Hopelessness was what broke it, and it was with a silent, shameful resolution that this soul found a way to survive in Hell.

That was the moment Castiel fell. He remembered so clearly the rush of energy and emotion as he pushed forward against the demons to save Dean’s soul before that vile inferno extinguished his light forever. Castiel remembered the way it felt when he wrapped himself around Dean and held him with all he had and raised them from perdition.

When he returned the soul to the body it instantly began to heal. He watched as the human traits took over and Dean began to reclaim the life he had before. He watched Dean drink and breathe and laugh. He felt a sudden desire for a vessel of his own. Against his better judgment, he sought out a human who could contain him. He found Jimmy Novak and with his permission, Castiel took over the body.

When he saw Dean again, this time from his vessel’s eyes, his love only grew stronger. Dean was still damaged, yes, but he was a warrior to his very core and Castiel was confident he would recover. Though he didn’t understand the depths of his feelings at the time, he knew it was love. He knew he loved this human, body and soul, and he knew they would be bound together forever.         

Dean slammed the book shut, bringing Castiel back to the present. Apparently Dean found nothing of comfort in the pages.

“Dean,” he said softly, “maybe you should get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered. He reached for another book and began searching the pages. “I’ll be a whole hell of a lot better once I figure out what’s going on with Sammy.”

“You’ve been awake too long,” said Castiel. “Humans should not go without sleep for more than 18 hours, and you have been awake for at least 32.”

Dean did not break his concentration. “I told you Cas, it’s weird when you time me.”

Castiel sighed. He felt a strangely physical urge to reach out and lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but their relationship was never physical. Castiel knew from the stolen glances and shared soft smiles that Dean returned his love. Dean was one of the few humans he knew of who did not require verbal confirmation of emotion. He spoke through actions and Castiel preferred it that way.

Dean never required him to become sexual, presumably because he knew how uncomfortable it made the angel. Besides, Dean seemed content to find other ways to satisfy his lust. Castiel knew when the desire became more than Dean could resist he’d indulge and spend the night with a woman. It never bothered Castiel. It was a purely physical need, almost a defect.

The only time Castiel felt the sting of jealousy was when Dean settled in with a family after losing Sam and Adam to Lucifer. In retrospect, Castiel understood it was the result of Dean’s heart breaking under the pressure of such an immense loss. Dean, at that time, needed to separate himself from everything he was in order to continue living or the grief and guilt would have killed him. Castiel wanted to help, but at that dark point in Dean’s life, no one could help him and it took him years to fully recover.

But he did recover. And as Dean healed, his love for Castiel returned. Castiel was once again able to feel the warmth of his hunter’s soul. He forgave and forgot and moved on, vowing never again to let Dean push him away.

Dean had fewer physical excursions after that. Castiel suspected Dean was attempting to keep their relationship a secret. In a rare moment of verbal emotional expression, Castiel explained to Dean that they were drawn together by a profound bond. Dean just shook his head and said “How about keep that to yourself, Cas. That’s not a normal thing for guys to say.”

Castiel understood and corrected his behavior. He knew some humans were upset at the idea of members of the same gender being involved romantically. Dean had enough monsters to fight as it was, Castiel did not want him to also fight people who may take issue with their relationship.

He attempted (though not always successfully) to mimic Dean’s heterosexual behavior in an effort to make their feelings for one another less obvious. He’d slipped up only once. Sam asked why Castiel was so quick to respond to Dean but not him when one of them called out for help. Castiel mentioned his bond with Dean was stronger, but stopped short of elaborating. Sam, even though he was a confirmed heterosexual, didn’t seem to mind, if anything he seemed jealous of their relationship. If there was ever a human who deserved to be loved deeply and unconditionally, it was Sam Winchester. Sometimes, that fact made Castiel feel guilty of the love he had with Dean.

Despite his suspicion that Sam would accept them regardless of their homosexual relationship, Castiel continued to follow Dean’s lead and direct his attention to women when they were in public. He’d even gone so far as to feign interest in a demon woman.

When Castiel fell from Heaven and lost his grace, he felt the pull of lust and surrendered to the temptation. He experienced intercourse for the first time and it was with a woman. Later, it was revealed she seduced him in an attempt to kill him. She’d almost succeeded, but the Winchester brothers showed up at the last moment. They pulled him from the brink of death and Castiel remembered looking at Dean for the first time as a human. Dean’s hand was warm on his face and his voice shook with fear as he spoke. It was then Castiel understood the strength of his body’s sexual urges.

He returned to the bunker with the brothers. After Sam retired to his room, Castiel had fully intended to take advantage of his human form and experience the physical aspect of his relationship with Dean.

He never got the chance. Dean asked him to leave because his presence put Sam in danger. Castiel was a target and at the time, Sam was weak and was only being kept healthy by another angel. It was too risky to have him there while Sam was healing. Sam was the priority at that moment. Castiel was hurt, but he understood.

That was the last time he tried to make a move to become physical with Dean, though arguably that wasn’t really a “move” at all. Something always came between them. Something more pressing was always in the way. Something always forced them to keep their relationship on the back burner.

By the time Castiel and Dean had the chance to be intimate again, Castiel’s grace was restored and the urge was gone. For years the two had subsisted on meaningful looks and small talk laden with subtext.

Dean slammed another book closed and put his head in his hands. Without thinking, Castiel leaned forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was a reflex. He’d always been able to heal Dean with a simple touch. He knew he could not heal the pain Dean felt now, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. In that moment, urge conquered logic.

“We’re fucked,” said Dean quietly. “The Darkness is loose, Sam’s hearing God—maybe—I hope, and there’s not a damn answer anywhere in this shitty excuse for a library.” He looked up suddenly and slammed a fist on the table.

Castiel dropped his arm. “You cannot lose hope.”

Dean laughed. “Damnit Cas,” he said. “We’re facing an unholy shit-storm of problems and you think _hope,_ of all things, is going to help us.” Dean looked at him with that sad half smile he so often used to mask his true feelings. He reached for his beer and took a drink.

Maybe it was because his grace was not as strong as it use to be—or maybe it was because so much time in his vessel made him more human than he realized—but for whatever reason, Castiel felt those familiar urges burning deep inside him once again.

According to his research, it was customary for the more experienced human to make the first move during a potential sexual encounter. But he also knew Dean may be too afraid to act. But in this moment, they were alone and no one was around to judge them or hate them for loving one another. Castiel knew they didn’t have long, and an opportunity like this may not present itself again for a very long time.

“I’m going to get another beer,” said Dean. He winked, then rose and walked toward the kitchen.

Castiel followed. Was that a signal? This was it. This was their moment. He approached quietly and stood behind Dean.

Dean jumped when he turned to see Castiel standing so close. “Cas, personal spa—”

Castiel didn’t speak. He took a step forward and gently placed a hand on Dean’s cheek. He could feel the hunter’s entire body go tense at his touch, but Dean did not protest. Castiel moved closer until he could feel Dean’s breath against his lips. They had yet to break eye contact. He waited for just a second, to make sure Dean was not opposed to his sudden advance. When the hunter continued to hold his gaze, Castiel leaned in and pressed his lips against Dean’s. It was a gentle, but hungry kiss.

Castiel wrapped his other arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him closer, deepening their embrace. He was barely aware of the sound of the beer bottle dropping to the floor. Something like electricity exploded in Castiel’s veins and he pulled them still closer together as if he was trying to force them to become one.

He felt Dean’s hands tug at his shirt. One rested on Castiel’s hip and the other moved up his chest, grasping at the fabric.

Dean let out a low guttural sound as he returned the kiss and Castiel could barely contain the pleasure pulsing through his body.

They broke apart for just a minute, foreheads pressed together, just long enough to catch their breath. Castiel took the opportunity to revel in this rare moment of pure joy. He and Dean were connected, as they were always meant to be, as they were in Hell when Castiel first touched that bright, beautiful soul.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Castiel tightened his grip on Dean and pulled him in for another kiss. He was met with sudden resistance.

“Cas,” said Dean, his breathing was quick and labored. “Don’t.” Dean released his grip on Castiel’s shirt and took several steps back. He’d gone very pale and Castiel was immediately aware something was amiss.

“Are you all right,” asked Castiel. He again raised his hand to heal whatever was ailing his companion, but Dean recoiled.

“I said don’t,” shouted Dean.

“I’m sorry,” stuttered Castiel. “Was that wrong? Did I frighten you? Did I do something incorrectly?”

A flicker of rage passed over Dean’s face. “Yeah. Yeah you fucking did.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Perhaps we could try again and you can show me what I did wrong.”

“You fucking kissed me Cas,” growled Dean. “That’s where you went wrong. You kissed me. Damnit Cas, you can’t just—” His voice trailed off as he turned his back to the angel.

“It’s all right Dean,” he said gently. “Sam is asleep and it’s just us. No one will know. We can be ourselves.” Something like panic began to rise in his chest and he quickly found himself babbling, desperate to calm Dean down. “I know that was sudden, but I seem to be more human now than I was before. I thought you would enjoy this. You’ve been so patient with me. I know I’ve kept you waiting. I just wanted to take advantage of this oppor—”

“Oh you took advantage all right,” snapped Dean, whirling back around. He advanced toward Castiel with a dangerous look in his eyes. “You snuck up on me and—shit. I don’t even want to think about it. That was fucking disgusting. Do you understand?”

Castiel absolutely did not understand. This was not the reaction he’d expected. “You didn’t want me to kiss you?”

“Of course not. What the Hell gave you that idea?”

Castiel’s mouth suddenly became very dry and the joy he felt before was quickly being replaced with fear. What had he done? After all this time, did he misread their relationship? Did Dean not reciprocate his feelings? Had their relationship been in Castiel’s head the whole time?

Dean must have recognized the panic in his face, because when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “You have too much to drink or something?”

“I—yes,” he lied. Castiel moved quickly from fear to damage control. He still loved Dean. They were friends at the very least, or so he hoped. Did he ruin everything?

Dean let out a nervous little laugh. “Well that explains it then.” He seemed to relax a little. “We both had a little too much booze and shit got weird.” He turned and grabbed a cloth and began cleaning up the broken bottle from the floor. “Note to self,” he continued, “angels get super horny when they’re hammered. Remind me to keep my distance.”

Castiel was still frantically searching for words. Were things ok now? Surely Dean knew he wasn’t drunk. Dean had three, maybe four drinks that night, but Castiel had nothing. What happened? What did he miss? Did he imagine that Dean kissed him back? Wasn’t Dean trying to pull them closer?

“I’m going to bed,” said Dean. He stood and threw the shards of glass in the trash and put the cloth in the sink. “You should probably sleep it off too.” He brushed past Castiel quickly, but stopped before leaving the room. “Hey Cas,” he said, “don’t mention this to Sammy. He’s got enough to deal with right now.”

“Of course,” muttered Castiel. Dean nodded, seemingly satisfied, and left Castiel standing alone, still reeling from what just happened.

 

 

Castiel left the bunker the next day without saying much to either of the brothers. He checked into a motel without any real consideration as to what he was doing. He stayed there for a while, replaying the night over and over in his mind. It wasn’t until he was staring at himself in the mirror that he allowed the truth to creep in and take hold. He was wrong. He’d been wrong for years. That beautiful, broken soul did not love him. Dean Winchester did not love him. He was an ally in a great and terrible war, and that was it. They were not romantic partners. There was no relationship. The looks they so often shared were nothing more significant than two friends making eye contact.

He fell. He rebelled. He fought and killed his brothers and sisters. With every terrible action he committed, he reminded himself that there was still someone out there who loved him. But he was wrong. He was so very wrong. 

Days passed and Castiel tried to ignore the slivers of prayers he heard from Dean. He knew now, they were accidental at most. He tried to remain casual when the spoke to either of the brothers over the telephone. He was especially careful with the way he talked to Dean. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to believe Dean made him think they were in love. He wanted to yell at Dean and demand answers to his confusion. But he knew it wasn’t Dean’s fault. He’d been selfish. He coveted this human and that was his burden to bear. Dean was innocent and Castiel had to find a way to apologize for his mistake or risk losing Dean.

The struggle against the Darkness continued. When rumor of her demise reached Castiel, he was grateful for the distraction. Dean called him to investigate. Castiel obliged. He was Dean’s guardian. Nothing more.

Time seemed to pass in a blur. The Darkness was not dead, but Castiel could not focus on how to find her again. He hated to think he was so susceptible to human emotions, depression or pain, yet that seemed to be the uncomfortable truth. In his entire existence, he’d never felt so alone.

He was with Dean when they heard Sam was trapped in Hell and needed help. Castiel followed as if on autopilot. They found Sam with thanks to Crowley’s cryptic mutterings about the cage. Castiel followed Dean and with every step, he could not quiet the hope that Dean would turn and look at him the way he did before that night.

Castiel should have known better than to let Dean approach the cage containing Lucifer and Sam. He should have smelled the trap. He should have known what was going to happen. His humanity was clouding his judgment. Before he could move to protect them, Lucifer pulled him and Dean into the cage with Sam. The brothers fought admirably against Lucifer, but the hunters were no match for the devil.

Lucifer wanted Sam as his vessel. He wanted out of the cage. He wanted Sam to submit to him. He wanted the glory of finding and defeating the Darkness.

As the dark angel raged against the three of them in the cage, something in Castiel snapped. Lucifer slammed Sam against the cage and he collapsed. Dean rushed to Sam’s side as Lucifer turned his attention to Castiel. He threw Castiel to the ground and pinned him there.

“So,” asked Lucifer, “last words?”

“Can you really beat her,” whispered Castiel. The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying.

Lucifer smirked. “I can.”

“Then yes.”

That was all Lucifer needed, a vessel. He wanted Sam, but Castiel knew his vessel would be a suitable alternative. With it, Lucifer could leave the cage and hopefully beat the Darkness once and for all. If this was Castiel’s last act, then so be it. Maybe his time on Earth was over.

He let out a deep breath as Lucifer’s soul consumed his own. As his consciousness faded away, he looked to Dean one last time. Hopeless though it was, Castiel knew he would love him until his own light diminished and was extinguished forever.

 

 

 


	2. I took my love and I took it down

Dean winked as he left to get another beer. Cas’ entire disposition was tense with worry. In a stupid attempt to lighten the mood, he winked—like that was supposed to do any damn good. His shoulder was still warm from Cas’ touch. Though _why_ he touched Dean was unclear. It felt the same as when Cas tried to heal him, but Dean wasn’t hurt so that didn’t make sense. Maybe the spot on his shoulder was still warm because Cas was warm and—

Dean shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Beer. He came to the kitchen for beer. He pawed through the contents of the fridge, past some fruit flavored nonsense he was sure belonged to his brother, and grabbed another beer. He shut the door and turned and was immediately surprised to find Cas standing almost toe-to-toe with him. How did he always manage to be so Goddamn quiet?

“Cas, personal spa—” He lost the rest of his sentence when the angel exhaled lightly and Dean felt Cas’ warm breath blow softly across his neck.

The first time Dean felt Castiel’s breath was shortly after the angel resurrected him. At the time, his only thought was “Why do angels need to breath?” Every time after that though, Dean felt himself more interested in the way Cas’ mouth parted slightly when he would sigh or gasp—or sometimes when he was just talking. How many times had he missed the entirety of a conversation for staring at Cas instead of listening to Cas? 

Somewhere in the back of his mind a blaring alarm was going off. Dean had to snap out of it. He just had to say something flippant or make a joke. At this point they’d been standing in silence just staring for about two seconds and that was two seconds too damn many. _Jesus fucking Christ,_ he thought. _Just do something. Use your idiot brain or move your idiot feet, just shut this down._

Suddenly, Cas took a step forward and placed his hand on Dean’s cheek. The touch was soft, but it burned like fire against Dean’s skin. In that instant Dean split in half inside his head; part of him screaming _shut it down!_ while the other part did its best to keep him rooted to the floor. A meek little voice in the back of his mind begged him to stay. He’d waited so long…

Cas leaned in slowly. Dean had plenty of time to make a get away. By staying put, he knew he’d revealed too much. He stared into the angel’s ridiculously blue eyes and as Cas leaned in, Dean’s brain ceased functioning entirely. Castiel pressed his lips against Dean’s, mouth parted just slightly, and Dean felt an immense heat rush through him. Before Dean had a chance to regain any semblance of a thought process, Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean and was pulling him in closer. 

Dean’s body went weak and the beer slipped from his hands. Before he could stop himself, his hands latched onto Castiel, one dangerously low on his hip and the other griping tightly at that damn white button down Castiel always insisted on wearing. Dean tugged at the fabric and pressed his lips harder against Cas’. He heard himself make a sound and realized he’d lost total control of his body. Want, relief, love, release, joy, pain, sorrow and 1,000 other emotions were coursing through him without a single thought to stop them. The only time he allowed himself this kind of freedom was during a hunt, when second-guesses could get him or Sammy killed.

But this was not a hunt. This was different. This was bliss. There wasn’t any danger here, no blood on his hands—Hell, he wasn’t even armed—but the signals were similar. His mind was blank and his body knew what to do on its own. It knew exactly what he wanted, and what he had wanted for years. 

The warmth of Castiel’s lips left him as the angel stopped to inhale deeply. They were apart for just a second, but that was enough for Dean to regain some control. He felt Cas tighten his arms around him to pull them together again, but Dean pushed back.

“Cas,” he said, panting. “Don’t.” He let go of the angel and stumbled backwards. His body was still tingling with excitement, but he could hear those familiar, haunting thoughts cranking back up in his head. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. Cas had a hand raised and seemed genuinely concerned.

“I said don’t,” shouted Dean. His back was to the refrigerator, but at the sight of Cas’ hand, he tried to back up again. He needed more space; more space than the few feet between them now.

“I’m sorry,” Cas stuttered. “Was that wrong? Did I frighten you? Did I do something incorrectly?” 

“Yeah. Yeah you fucking did.” Dean was barely paying attention. That kiss was burned into his mind. He’d enjoyed it and that was wrong. He wasn’t gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck other options were out there now. He was a Goddamn man; the Goddamn man his father raised him to be and this manipulative, feather-brained, inhuman asshole wasn’t going to change him. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas repeated. “Perhaps we could try again and you can show me what I did wrong.” 

Dean felt panic rising in his chest. For a brief moment, he flashed back to a much younger version of himself. His father was yelling. This was wrong. Dean didn’t like this. “You fucking kissed me, Cas.” He practically snarled as he spoke. The word “kiss” suddenly felt dirty and sour. “That’s where you went wrong. You kissed me.” He cringed as he said the word again. “Damnit Cas, you can’t just—” His voice trailed off as that kiss replayed itself in his head. What he wouldn’t give for some memory-wiping voodoo shit right now. 

He turned his back to the angel. He couldn’t keep looking at him, at that face. Cas was looking at him with that wounded puppy why-do-you-hate-me-how-can-I-fix-this face.

“It’s all right, Dean.” Cas’ voice was quiet now. “Sam is asleep and it’s just us. No one will know. We can be ourselves.” 

Dean felt sick.

“I know that was sudden, but I seem to be more human now than I was before. I thought you would enjoy this. You’ve been so patient with me. I know I’ve kept you waiting. I just wanted to take advantage of his oppor—” 

“Oh you took advantage all right,” snapped Dean. He turned around too quickly and suddenly thought he might hurl. “You snuck up on me and—shit. I don’t even want to think about it.” The kiss was replaying over and over in his mind with his father’s angry shouting as the soundtrack. He could not bring himself to say that word again. “That was fucking disgusting. Do you understand?” 

Castiel looked dumbfounded. “You didn’t want me to kiss you?” 

That meek voice in Dean’s head answered first. _Yes. I’m sorry. Forgive me._ But Dean was in full control now and that voice had no power over him anymore. “Of course not. What the Hell gave you that idea?” 

With another lurch of his stomach he realized how much he sounded like John Winchester. Castiel’s entire manner just shattered. The guilt hit Dean like a 16-wheeler. Cas was clearly shaken and Dean knew how fucking easy it would be to fix the mess he just made. He should just let it all out. He should just back the fuck down and apologize and grab Cas as tight as he could and beg his forgiveness for being such a prick. He owed his life to that angel. He owed his brother’s life. He was eternally indebted to Cas and it was so painfully obvious now that everything Cas did was out of love for one pathetic, wretched human. He owed Cas everything; at the very least he owed him the truth.

But he couldn’t even allow himself to think about it; how could he ever say it? The kiss flashed in his mind again. He needed to get out of there. Cas’ face was contorted in shame and despair and of course it was Dean’s fault. 

He took a breath and opened his mouth without any idea what he was going to say. “You have too much to drink or something?” Dean mentally kicked himself. 

“I—yes,” answered Cas. 

This was pathetic. If Dean were physically capable of feeling more shame, he’d be feeling it right now. They weren’t drunk. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw Cas drink. “Well that explains it then.” Dean just let the lie continue. It calmed his nerves and eased the burning nausea tearing at his gut, though he knew the relief was temporary. “We both had a little too much booze and shit got weird.” This was going to come back to haunt him.

At a loss for anything else to do, he turned his attention to the broken bottle on the floor and began to clean up the mess. “Note to self,” he continued, “angels get super horny when they’re hammered. Remind me to keep my distance.”

Cas didn’t say a damn word. Dean could feel the ghost of his father’s rage and disgust ebbing, but it was slowly replaced by a different, equally disgusted feeling. Dean knew this was a terrible thing to do to someone he—someone who meant—someone like Cas. 

“I’m going to bed,” said Dean. He finished cleaning the glass from the floor and threw the beer-soaked rag in the sink. “You should probably sleep it off too.” He tried to ignore that shattered fucking look on Cas’ face as he brushed past. Dean was a selfish, cowardly, vile excuse for a human being. _Say something to him,_ he thought. _Say anything. He’s still your friend. Fix this before it’s too late._

Dean paused before leaving the kitchen. “Hey Cas,” he said, a lump firmly knotted in his throat, “don’t mention this to Sammy. He’s got enough to deal with right now.” 

“Of course.” Castiel’s voice was barely a whisper.

Dean hung his head. He was a vile, _vile_ human being.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Cas left without so much as a _fuck you, Dean Winchester._ He talked to Sam briefly, mentioning something about tracking down the Darkness. Coward that he was, Dean just grunted a goodbye when Cas left. 

Dean spent the next few days distracting himself with smelly books from the bunker’s shitty library and figuring out ways to defeat Amara. The Darkness. Dean’s attraction to her should have been the real slap in the face. He was embarrassed, of course, but he was mortal. If she wanted him, there wasn’t a whole Hell of a lot he could do to stop her. 

They met, face-to-face, sometime after Cas left. She called to him and he had no choice but to answer. She kissed him, but when their lips met Dean felt a cold, clammy hatred wash over him. The scar from the Mark of Cain burned on his arm, but so did the handprint high on his shoulder. The mark was sharp, stabbing burn. The print on his shoulder, the scar left by Castiel’s grace was hot, but not painful. Both scars reacted, almost in protest to the existence of the other. 

As suddenly as Amara had summoned him, she was gone. Later, he heard she might be dead. He called Cas and discussed just the facts. Dean’s emotions were so scattered he wasn’t even sure what made him feel the worst. He felt a ridiculous, primal longing for God’s evil twin and he felt something equally taboo, but so much more sincere than lust for his fallen guardian angel.

Dean focused on the job. That kept him distracted. It was too hard to juggle emotions and stab monsters at the same time. Monsters were a matter of life and death. Monsters always took priority and helped clear his head. 

When he tried to investigate the destruction of the Darkness, he got sick. He’d called Cas and of course Cas came. Of course he was concerned. Of course he wanted to help and of course Dean was abrupt and dismissive.

He didn’t have long to dwell on that encounter before he found out that Sam had barged into Hell and needed help. Sammy had always been fearless, stupid, but fearless. Dean admired him for that.

As he and Cas approached the cage containing Lucifer and his brother, Dean realized too late they’d made a mistake. The two were pulled into the cage before he had a chance to think of a plan B. _Son of a bitch_. 

He and Cas and Sam fought Lucifer, a weirdly familiar experience for the trio. Dean let instinct take over and his mantra of “Don’t let that thing hurt Sammy” kept him going. It was a close call, but Lucifer was not as strong in the cage and the three of them had only become stronger since their last fight. As time was running out, Lucifer threw Sam against the bars and Dean ran to his side. Cas kept the other angel distracted until Crowley and his wicked witch mother managed to contain Lucifer again.

After a close match, they won. They always won against the monsters and Lucifer was most certainly a monster.

Cas was quiet on the way back out of Hell. He opted not to return with the brothers and Dean wasn’t surprised. But, for once, the sweet rush of adrenalin overpowered any feelings of shame or guilt and Dean savored the moment. He always felt better after winning a fight. It was in these moments of private victory that he felt like one of the good guys. He needed to hunt more, research less. It was time to take a break from the bunker and hit the road with just the Impala, his brother, and enough ammo to take out a small country hamlet.

When an old friend called asking for help, it was exactly the break Dean had been waiting for and he leapt at the opportunity. Compared to the past week, this would be a damn vacation. 


	3. A Beautiful White Horse I Saw On a Dream Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> artwork to follow...stay tuned for updates

Hunting did not improve Dean’s mood. If anything, it made it worse. The world was deliberately fucking with him. The Winchesters faced-off against a white witch last week. She cast some bullshit desire spell on a civilian and the only way to re-direct the spell was to kiss the current victim—like Blair Witch herpes. 

Apparently, a jealous wife asked her hairdresser for a love spell to make her husband stop fooling around with the babysitter. Or something like that, Dean was only half paying attention. As soon as the woman mentioned “spell” and “witch” he began mentally preparing all the things he and Sam would need to stop this from spreading.

Because witches were generally terrible people (or at least in Dean’s experience) the “love” spell was a lie. It manifested as the person the victim desired most, then that manifestation would rip out the victim’s heart. Somewhere in all of this, the babysitter died, the husband died, and his wife was being hunted by a twisted projection of his former self.

In a moment of panic, Dean kissed the frightened wife and caught the stupid magical STD. Sam shot him a “what the fuck, Dean?” look as they rushed back to the Impala. Dean didn’t have a good answer. The woman was safe, but now it was Dean’s problem. It took a moment for him to realize how stupid that move really was.

He told Sam his deepest desire was Daisy Duke, which was a fucking stupid thing to say. Sam immediately asked which actress he preferred because, duh, Daisy Duke was not a real person. Dean didn’t have a good answer. He hoped with all he had that whatever hold Amara had over him would be enough to convince the spell to take her form. 

He tried not to think about a heart-ripping version of Castiel. He poured all of his energy into Amara and waited for the object of his desire to hunt him down. He was grateful he was alone when it finally found him. Sam was busy fighting the witch while her spell took on Amara’s form and went after Dean.

When it was over (Winchesters: 1, Witch:0) Dean was so happy the spell didn’t appear as Cas, he actually confessed his feelings for Amara to Sam. 

Sam was mercifully understanding—a trait he must have inherited from their mother—and promised to do what Dean could not, and kill Amara.

Thus the plan was formed and from there, the Winchesters returned to the bunker to flesh out the details.

 

_After the Hand of God_

Dean lay in bed, arms firmly folded over his chest with an icepack resting on his forehead. It was late and he was exhausted, but he knew sleep was not coming.

Cas came back. He sent Dean back in time to retrieve an artifact the trio hoped would help defeat Amara. Dean had been so flustered; he didn’t even notice the inconsistencies in Cas’ behavior—or the increase in his power. There were a million little red flags and Dean missed every single one. 

Cas sent him back it time to WWII, but Dean returned empty handed. He didn’t even have time to contemplate what kind of butterfly effect his actions would have on the present before Sam started shouting.

Cas wasn’t Cas. Lucifer was wearing him and Dean’s stomach lurched when he realized what must have happened. Lucifer would have killed the brothers then and there if not for Sam. That boy had always been good at thinking on his feet. Using his own blood, Sam drew a symbol on the wall for expelling angels and slammed his still-bleeding palm against it to complete the ritual. Lucifer was thrown from the bunker before he could do any more damage. 

That was days ago. Sam told Dean that Cas regained control just long enough to save the younger Winchester’s life. Dean tried not to think about how Lucifer would punish Castiel for that.

Those memories kept buzzing through Dean’s mind as he lay in bed. He thought about the people on the submarine—how they were willing to die defending a cause they didn’t fully understand—how they just accepted their fate. He thought about Sam who stayed behind to fight Lucifer, while his idiot big brother when gallivanting around in the past. He thought about how Sam didn’t hesitate to volunteer to destroy Amara when Dean revealed he couldn’t. Finally, he thought about Cas. 

He’d tried to avoid it for as long as he could, but he had to face the fact sooner or later. Cas was gone. The featherbrain must have said yes to Lucifer while they were in the cage. Dean had been so busy avoiding him; he didn’t even notice the prince of darkness was parading around wearing Dean’s best friend as a meat-suit.

Dean shut his eyes and tried to make the thoughts go away. He’d had a fair amount of whiskey. He just had to wait for the alcohol to seep into his conscious thought and coat everything with a nice thick layer of I-don’t-give-a-fuck. 

It finally happened somewhere around 5 a.m. 

When Dean awoke, he felt the familiar haze of a mild hangover. He checked the time on his phone. It took him a minute to realize it said 7 p.m. and not 7 a.m. Was he really out that long? He pushed himself up into a sitting position, one leg hanging over the side of the bed. He had a text from Sam. He was out on a supply run and didn’t want to wake Dean.

Carefully, he swung his other leg over the edge of the bed and rested both feet on the cold floor. He needed coffee—or maybe a beer—just something to get rid of his headache. He decided on beer and wandered to the kitchen. Water was a smarter choice, but screw that. 

Dean was shocked into sobriety before he reached cleared the doorway. Cas’ body was sprawled out in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. His trench coat and suit jacket were gone. His shirt was caked in dirt and blood. He was barefoot and Dean could see the soles of his feet were torn and battered. 

Dean rushed to his side without hesitation. The angel’s breathing was shallow and labored. His chest trembled as he inhaled. His eyes were glossy and half-open. 

“Cas.” It wasn’t a question. This wasn’t Lucifer. Dean could feel it. He didn’t know how, but he could feel the difference.

Cas struggled to take another breath as he turned his gaze to Dean. He tried to say something, but his voice was so hoarse the words just came out in a raspy whine. 

“Hang on,” said Dean. He retrieved the first aid kit and quickly returned to the angel’s side.

Castiel let out another raspy croak. 

“Shut up,” said Dean. “Save your breath.” He didn’t stop to wonder why Cas wasn’t healing himself. He was sure whatever Cas did to expel Lucifer took every last bit of grace the angel possessed. He was human again. 

Dean hovered over his body, cutting away clothing until Cas was mostly naked. Dean addressed the most gruesome wound first. He sanitized the area around a nasty, jagged gash across Cas’ stomach. It wasn’t too deep, but it ran from one side of Castiel’s torso to the other and it was still glossy with fresh blood. Dean began stitching as fast as he could. 

“Dean.” Cas finally managed to choke out a word. 

“Save it,” said Dean. 

“Please,” murmured Cas. “I had to come back.” 

“I know,” said Dean, focusing on the torn flesh beneath his fingers. “I’m glad you did. Don’t talk. I’ll have you fixed up and back to normal in no time. Don’t worry.” 

Cas coughed and blood trickled from the edge of his mouth. “I had to tell you,” he began. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. He searched for other wounds while he continued to stitch the skin back together. Cas was covered in bruises and his right eye was badly swollen, but most of the blood seemed to come from the gash on his torso. As soon as this was sewn shut, Dean knew he’d need to check Cas’ back for more damage. He braced himself, praying this was the worst of it. 

“I hurt you,” said Cas, softly. Blood continued to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

“No,” said Dean. “I’m fine. Just rest.” Internal bleeding. Dean had seen every injury a body could sustain and he knew coughing up blood was a sign of something he may not be able to fix. 

Suddenly, Cas raised a battered hand and clutched Dean’s wrist. “Listen to me,” choked Cas. “I need to tell you I’m sorry.” His usually crystal-blue eyes were cloudy, but his gaze was as direct and focused as ever. 

“Ok,” said Dean, releasing the needle. He allowed Cas to link their hands and rest them against the angel’s exposed chest.

“I cannot leave this world with hatred between us,” said Cas. His voice was weak and Dean knew he was fading. 

“I don’t hate you,” said Dean. “Please, just be quiet and let me fix this.” Without thinking, he moved his free hand and laid it gently against Castiel’s cheek. 

The angel took another labored breath and turned his head to press against the palm of Dean’s hand. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as though trying to draw some bit of strength from Dean’s touch. “I am so sorry,” he repeated. His eyes were shut tight, but Dean could see tears beginning to stream down his face. 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. He heard his own voice crack. Cas didn’t return for help. He returned to say goodbye. He used every last bit of his fading strength to come back and say goodbye.

Cas opened his eyes and tightened his grip on Dean’s hand, pressing it harder against his chest. “I loved you,” he whispered. “I know it was wrong, but I loved you.” He took a breath as tears continued to stream down his cheeks, carving clean lines through the dirt and blood coving his face. “I still love you,” he said finally. “You are good and pure and—” His words were lost in another cough. 

Dean felt his own tears stinging his cheeks. He pulled his hand from Castiel’s grip and wrapped it around his waist. Dean lifted him into his lap and cradled Cas’ body against his own. He felt warm blood seeping into his jeans and new he’d yet to address the entirety of Cas’ injuries. He couldn’t speak. He pressed his lips into a firm line and stared down at the angle in his arms. He supported Cas by propping him against his knee and held him in the crook of his arm. With his free hand, Dean traced the lines of Castiel’s face, running his thumb gently over a bruised cheek and wiping away tears and grime. 

“I love you,” Cas whispered. “I know you hate that. I’m so sorry. But you need to know I never meant to hurt you.”

Dean tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat and he choked. 

“You are loved, Dean Winchester,” he said. His voice was weaker, but he continued to stare up at Dean. “You have been and always will be loved.” His body shuttered as he let out a deep breath. 

Dean could feel him weaken in his arms. “Cas,” he croaked. But his friend was silent. 

The angel closed his eyes slowly and whispered again. “You are loved.”

“Cas,” shouted Dean. He pressed the limp body to his chest. “Cas!” It was too late. He was too late. “Cas, I’m sorry,” he said, half sobbing half shouting. “Don’t do this! I’m sorry!” He lifted Castiel’s head and pressed a desperate kiss against his lips. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Please forgive me.” 

Suddenly, the room began to fade. He felt Cas’ body grow lighter. Dean struggled to maintain his grip, but something pulled them apart. He was thrown from the kitchen floor into inky blackness and he could feel himself falling. With a chill-inducing jolt, his arms caught on something. He hung in midair by his wrists and a white-hot pain dug into his side. 

Hell. He was back in Hell. He screamed, but no sound came out. The demons approached, their souls murky and suffocating. He tried to pull away at his bonds, but the pain was too intense. The demons surrounded him, engulfing him in their gloom. As quickly as the chains had appeared, they were gone and Dean was falling again. 

He hit the ground hard, eyes closed, brain too foggy to process what was happening. Something was restraining him. He kicked and struggled against whatever it was and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

He was in his room. His sheet was twisted around his waist and his body was covered in a cold sweat. 

It was a dream. It was just a dream. 

He untangled himself from the sheet and put his head in his hands. 

“Dean?” Sam stood in the doorway of his room panting with a knife in his hand. 

“At ease, Sammy,” muttered Dean. 

“What the Hell happened?” demanded Sam. 

“Bad dream,” he answered. “Mixed too much coffee with too much booze and too many tacos.” 

Sam relaxed. “You all right?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

“You were screaming,” said Sam.

“I thought I was back on that damn sub,” said Dean. He lifted his head to look at his brother. “Next time I try to go all Quantum Leap, remind me how much I hate time-travel.” 

Sam nodded. “Do you need anything?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Go back to bed. Sorry I woke you up.” 

Sam was clearly not convinced, but he’d always been good at sensing when his brother needed privacy. He retreated without argument. 

Dean slumped back into his bed and pressed a hand to his head. He needed to find Cas.


	4. Still of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so freaking long...had to work on the plot. I was going to try to make this follow along with season 11, but screw it...I'm going rogue.

Weeks went by hazy and unproductive. No Hand of God. No weird mind-melding hocus pocus with Amara. No sign of Lucifer. No sign of Cas.

 

Dean found an excuse to leave the bunker almost every night. Whether it was hunting or investigating, it didn’t matter. He just needed to keep moving because every time he left the bunker he allowed himself to believe he was moving one step closer to finding Cas.

 

It wasn’t true, of course. This was a new battle; one unlike any the Winchesters had seen in years. The brothers went from being Earth’s MVPs, front and center for every tragedy thrown at mankind, to sitting on the bench, waiting to get tagged in again.

 

Lucifer had Crowley, or at least that’s what Sam suspected. Crowley was a better source for ancient fuck-you-up artifacts than the Winchesters were. They had the bunker, sure, but Crowley had caches dating back hundreds of years. If anybody knew where God hid the good stuff, it was Crowley. Why would Lucifer bother with the brothers when he could just use resources already available to him? He wanted Amara dead as much as anyone else. This was quite clearly a fight he wanted, and it was a fight Dean was more than willing to let him have.

 

The downside to Lucifer vs Amara would be the victor. If Amara won, if a Hand of God artifact failed, they’d need to find God himself to stop her. If Lucifer won, he’d never go back to the cage willingly. These were Winchester problems. What happens next? That’s where Sam and Dean needed to focus their attention.

 

Sammy said they needed a miracle. One way or another they needed to find God. Dean remembered making some wiseass comment because he didn’t want to think about the truth.

 

If this was where they stood, if this was the last, best solution, if this was the focus of all their hope—finding God—then they really were screwed.

 

Maybe a part of Sam knew that. He tried to stay positive. He tried to keep them busy tracking signs of angel or demon activity. He stayed up almost every night into the early hours of the morning researching in the library. Dean knew at this point Sam was re-reading the majority of their collection, but he didn’t stop him. It felt like progress. The same way it felt like progress when Dean took off in the Impala and just drove. He told himself he was looking for signs, but he knew better. Every time he got in the car and hit the gas, it was with the hope of spotting a disheveled little man in a tan trench coat with a backwards tie, bright blue eyes and messy black hair.

 

Sam didn’t question his solitary, occasionally over-night road trips. For a while, Dean assumed Sam was just happy with the privacy of the empty bunker. It didn’t take long to realize Sammy had found more than the library to keep him occupied.

 

When Sam asked Dean over burgers and beer on night, if they should invite Eileen Leahy to the bunker for “hunter networking” Dean just smirked and said “Yeah Sammy, that’s a great idea.”

 

Eileen had become a more frequent visitor as the weeks went on and part of Dean was able to relax because Sam was happy.

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

That’s what Sam had said when Dean asked if the Eileen situation was becoming a “thing.” They sat in the war room, books spread open across the giant map and Sam had his laptop shoved to one side so he could examine a hieroglyphic text in an old leather-bound tome.

 

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We’ve faced the end of the world so many times, I’m starting to get bored with it. How long are we going to worry about how it all ends before we wise up and realize we may have wasted our lives never knowing what it’s about?”

 

“So what?” asked Dean, not bothering to look up from his own laptop, “Eileen is what it’s all about? You going domestic on me?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, “I just want to enjoy myself for a while. Just in case this is the last—I don’t want to wonder if I missed—forget it.” He shook his head and returned to his book.

 

Dean knew. Sam didn’t want this life. Sam didn’t want to be a martyr for humanity and Dean didn’t want him to be one. If Sam wanted a life of his own, he should have that. If he wanted a life beyond what hunting had to offer, Dean wanted him to have that too.

 

He scrolled through the local news for Lebanon and the surrounding small towns. He ended his web surfing routine every night by checking for suspicious activity nearby. His eyes were immediately drawn to the first headline under “weird news” for Grand Island, Nebraska.

 

_Witnesses Report Spontaneous Combustion at Local Bar_

The headline directly beneath that was equally intriguing.

 

_Woman ‘Appears Out of Thin Air’ In Parking Lot_

Dean grinned. “We’ve got a case.”

 

xxx

 

The brothers interviewed the bar owner first. He claimed to have seen everything.

 

“I seen this big ol’ bear of a man going after somebody in the lot out back,” he said. The sweaty little man ran a rag over his balding head as he spoke to the fake FBI agents from across the counter. “It was real dark mind you, but the screamin’s what got our attention.” He nodded to a scrawny man drinking alone in the corner. “We run out the back there just as he was pickin’ up this little lady—thank you Jesus, I had my sawed-off—and I let out a warning shot. But I swear to you Agent Walsh,” he looked directly at Sam who was leading the interrogation, “That SOB didn’t even flinch. That poor girl screamed then POP.” The owner clapped his hands. “She was gone. That bastard rounded on me with this hellish look in his eyes and POP.” He clapped again. “That SOB was gone too.” He ran the rag over his head again. “Now I can’t tell you if that woman they found up the road was the same one I saw, but if I was a bettin’ man, I’d be willin’ to wager she’s connected to this. And I’ll tell you another thing.” He leaned in close to the brothers. “You’re FBI so I can say this to you because I’m sure you boys already know the truth. It was aliens.”

 

Dean was about to open his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off. “Thank you, for your time. We’ll be in touch once we find out more.”

 

The sweaty little bartender nodded.

 

“One more thing,” said Dean, before Sam could haul him away. “The man—the attacker—what’d he look like?”

 

“Big,” he answered, eyes wide. “I mean—I don’t know how to describe it. He didn’t look big but he just—when you looked at him you knew that was something you shouldn’t go near.”

 

Dean pulled a picture from his pocket. “Did he look like this?” He held up a picture of Sammy and Cas arguing about something stupid next to the Impala. He’d snapped it years ago when they weren’t looking and printed it out. He kept it with him at all times. It was the closest thing he had to a family portrait.

 

The bar owner’s eyes widened. “Is this some MIB shit going down right now?”

 

“No,” said Sam quickly. He grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him back out to the car before he could protest, shouting out another “thanks” over his shoulder.

 

xxx

 

“We needed to know if it was Cas,” said Dean. They were almost to the hospital to interrogate the woman next.

 

“We can ask the victim,” said Sam. “She’ll be able to give us a better ID, and Dean…” his voice trailed off for a moment, “that’s not Cas anymore. We need to be careful.”

 

Dean didn’t answer and Sam didn’t push him. They parked and entered the hospital, flashing their badges on the way in to meet the victim. Dean already had the picture out again and Sam didn’t protest.


	5. Sweet Loretta Martin thought she was a woman

Castiel rolled onto his side and was immediately met with resistance. Something was tethered to his arm. He glanced down and saw himself hooked up to something he vaguely remembered being called and “IV.” He frowned at it for a moment as though he expected the device to explain what it was doing and why it was dripping fluids into his body.

 

Hospital. Yes. That seemed correct. Judging by the cramped little bed and overall clinical appearance of his room he decided he must have been checked into a hospital at some point.

 

He raised a hand to his neck and panic flooded through him. He sat up quickly and looked around the room. His grace. He’d put it in a vial and had it around his neck when he collapsed—after escaping Lucifer.

 

He’d escaped. He heard his heartbeat increase on the monitor beside his bed. Lucifer. When Crowley tried to use the Hand of God on him something happened and Castiel felt himself separate from Lucifer and his vessel. Castiel broke free. He remembered now. He found a new vessel, but Lucifer had been quick to follow him. They fought briefly before Castiel was able to escape again. He remembered pouring his grace into a vial, forcing himself to become human again so Lucifer couldn’t find him.

 

Castiel knew he didn’t get far. He felt a sharp flood of panic again and closed his eyes to listen to his new body. Alone. The original soul was gone. It had so generously offered its body as a sanctuary to the desperate angel. But Castiel was weak, and as a result he could not protect the human; the stranger who sacrificed this body for—for what? For Castiel to live instead? Because Castiel was more important than this human? Because Castiel deserved to live in this realm more than original owner?

 

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, selfishly taking this moment to wallow in his shame. God should have never saved him.

 

“Juliane?” asked a voice from the door.

 

Castiel looked up and saw a nurse peering into his room. Castiel distantly realized she was addressing him.

 

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake,” she said, entering the room. “I’m just going to check your progress real quick. You have visitors waiting, if you feel up to seeing them.” She smiled gently.

 

Castile let out a soft sigh. The family. The vessel’s family. The family who would be so excited to find out their loved one survived, only to be crushed later when they inevitably found out the truth.

 

“You can wait if you’re still tired,” suggested the nurse. “Your doctor said it’s probably best if you avoid too much stress. She’s happy with your progress, but doesn’t want you to overdo it.”

 

Castiel nodded. “I’ll see them,” he said. The voice that left him was strange and soft, not at all like the low rumble of his first vessel. A woman. He was a woman now. He absentmindedly ran a hand over his shoulder and brushed his fingers through the long hair draped over it. His hand became caught in a knot and it took him a moment to struggle free. Perfect. Just when he’d become accustom to his male form.

 

“I can get you a comb,” offered the nurse, checking something off on the chart. “You didn’t come in with much, but I’ll make sure you get the basic comforts while you’re here.” She paused. “Which reminds me—your personal belongings are here.” She pulled a plastic bag from the chair in the corner.

 

Castiel reached an arm out to accept it. He could already see it, faint blue just barley shimmering at the bottom of the bag. His grace. He let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he dug through the clothes to reach the necklace. He pulled it over his head and tucked the vial beneath the collar of his hospital gown. It was too weak to really glow anymore, but it was his and it was safe.

 

“I figured you’d want that back,” said the nurse. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“It was my father’s,” Castiel said quietly, without really considering what he was saying.

 

The nurse nodded before continuing with her tasks. “They wouldn’t tell me what they wanted with you, but if they give you any trouble, you just let me know.” The nurse gestured to a call button near the bed.

 

“Trouble?” asked Castiel.

 

“They’re federal agents, sorry did I not mention that before?”

 

His heart leapt. Sam and Dean. Could he be that lucky? He nodded his head eagerly. “Please, send them in. I’m feeling much better.”

 

The nurse smiled again and left the room. Castiel heard voices outside as she told the agents they could enter. He sat up straighter and unconsciously placed a hand over the necklace.

 

Sam entered the room first with Dean trailing behind. “I’m Agent Walsh, this is Agent Leadon,” he said, leaning forward to shake Castiel’s hand. “You’re Juliane Baum, right?”

 

Castiel nodded, eyeing Dean as he closed the door. Once it was shut and Castiel was sure no one could hear them, he started to correct Sam. He got as far as parting his lips to speak when he suddenly became very aware of the way Dean was looking at him. His voice caught in his throat as a desperate little part of his brain whispered, “not yet.”

 

Dean pushed past Sam and held a photograph up to Castiel. “You recognize this man? The grumpy little guy in the trench coat?” Dean tapped the picture.

 

Castiel winced a little at Dean’s description of his former vessel, but he nodded anyway. The brothers must have already recognized this as Lucifer’s work.

 

“You wanna tell me what you were doing with him?” asked Dean. He slid a chair over to the edge of the bed and leaned in slightly, tying to make himself eye-level with Castiel.

 

Castiel recognized this technique. Dean used it when he thought people were uncomfortable around him and he wanted to seem less intimidating. It wasn’t working now. His voice was too gruff and rushed. Castiel knew something was wrong. He decided to press on cautiously with the conversation. “I don’t remember everything,” Castiel began.

 

Dean nodded. “That’s fine. Whatever you can tell us.” He glanced up at Sam.

 

If Castiel hadn’t seen them communicate in this silent language before, he would have missed it. He knew Dean was signaling Sam to check for signs of something inhuman. He noticed a silver ring on Sam’s finger. The handshake when he entered the room. That was the first test. Castiel heard Sam cough something that sounded suspiciously like “Christo” as he moved away from the bed.

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and shot the younger Winchester a look.

 

“I remember being outside of an establishment that served alcohol when he appeared,” said Castiel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam retrieve a flask from his breast pocket. The holy water test. How were they going to accomplish this one? Castiel decided to help them. He cleared his throat and faked a little cough. He turned and reached for an empty plastic cup by his bed.

 

“Water?” Sam offered quickly.

 

Castiel nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He couldn’t help but feel a little swell of pride at knowing the brothers so well.

 

Sam filled the cup from the sink across the room and quickly returned it.

 

Castiel took a sip and did his best to offer a sincere and innocent smile. “Thank you,” he repeated.

 

Beside the bed, Dean let out an audible and slightly disappointed huff. “What else?” he asked.

 

Castiel recognized that tone. Dean was frustrated. “He attacked me, then I woke up here.” He wanted to offer more information. He wanted to tell them who he really was. He wanted so badly to confess, but something held him back. A selfish, nasty, eager little part of him needed this; needed to see how Dean would react to this vessel. What if Castiel wasn’t what repulsed him? What if it was just his body; his outer shell? What if this body allowed Dean to love him? He was pulled from his thoughts as Dean rose from the chair.

 

“Thanks for your time,” he said gruffly. He nodded to Sam. “C’mon Walsh, let’s go.”

 

“Wait,” said Castiel, arm rising and tugging at the IV, desperate not to lose this opportunity. “I’m a hunter too.”

 

The boys stopped and turned in one swift movement. Dean was instantly beside the bed again. “What was that?” he asked.

 

“Hunter,” repeated Castiel. “I know you. You’re the Winchesters. I—” Castiel found himself babbling. He didn’t want Dean to leave, the selfish part of him overruling his logic. He felt a little twinge of guilt as his lie deepened, but he wasn’t ready to lose them again; to lose Dean again. Besides, Lucifer couldn’t track him now, and probably wouldn’t. Tracking the Darkness would occupy all of his time. Even if Lucifer wanted to, Castiel doubted the archangel would let himself get distracted. Castiel was expendable after all.

 

“Spit it out,” said Dean.

 

Castiel realized he was still sitting there with his mouth open and no words coming out. “My uncle was a hunter. He told me about you. I—I hunt things—monsters as well.” The lie was coming easier now. Castiel was confident he knew enough about “the business” to keep up the charade for a while. He wouldn’t lie to Dean for too long; just long enough to see if his vessel made a difference. “I believe the being I encountered was an angel.”

 

The brothers nodded, both listening intently to Castiel’s story. “What do you know about angels?” asked Sam.

 

“Very little,” answered Castiel. He felt the twinge of guilt again. This was a foolish game. They didn’t have time for games. He should confess right now.

 

“That wasn’t any angel,” said Dean. “That was Lucifer. You wanna tell us how you went toe to toe with the devil and lived to tell the tale?” He had one eyebrow raised and the corner of his lip was twisted in that little way that told Castiel Dean was suspicious.

 

“I don’t know.” That was true. Castiel had no idea how he managed to survive. Lucifer could have killed him out right. Instead, they fought and Castiel escaped by luck alone. He suspected it was because Lucifer was weakened by his close encounter with the Hand of God, but he couldn’t know for sure. He only suspected. He wasn’t positive; therefore it wasn’t a lie to say he didn’t know.

 

Dean continued to stare at him.

 

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in the bed and rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not connected to the IV.

 

Dean watched the movement and seemed to lick his lips unconsciously.

 

Castiel felt a strange fluttering sensation in his chest. He knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d resisted this for so long. He would not deceive Dean for too long. He’d stop before they became intimate. Just a day or two. This was human temptation; physical temptation. He knew better and he knew he didn’t deserve the pleasure most humans found in the company of one another. He’d killed an innocent girl not more than 48 hours ago. This was selfish and stupid. He knew better.

 

Dean stood up again and quickly pulled Sam off to the side before Castiel could protest again.

 

He watched the brothers’ debate. Dean made a suggestion. Sam disagreed. Dean pushed harder for whatever it was he wanted. Sam shook his head and Castiel caught the words “extreme” and “terrible plan.” Dean answered back with something that sounded like “not Amara” and “because I know.”

 

It wasn’t until he saw Dean’s mouth form the word “dungeon” that he figured out what was happening. Dean didn’t believe his story. He wanted to take Castiel back to the bunker to interrogate him. Castiel perked up at the idea of going back to the bunker with them. He held his breath, hoping Dean could persuade Sam.

 

Finally, after a few tense minutes, Sam nodded. Dean gave him a quick grin and when he turned back to Castiel, his green eyes flashed. Castiel recognized that look. Triumph. Excitement.

 

“We’ve got a safe house not far from here,” said Dean. “If Lucifer is interested in you for any reason, you’re better off with us.”

 

Sam gave Dean a sideways glace and Castiel knew he was extremely uncomfortable with this plan. But Castiel didn’t care. He was going back to the bunker with the Winchesters. He was going home.


	6. But My Dreams They Aren't As Empty As My Conscience Seems To Be

Castiel walked behind Sam as they entered the bunker. He knew Dean was close behind because every time they’d passed through a devil’s trap and Castiel didn’t get stuck, Dean would let out a quiet huff.

They stopped at the table where Castiel and Dean sat weeks earlier—before Castiel ruined everything. Sam offered him a seat. He suddenly realized how tired he was. His was lightheaded the room suddenly seemed very bright. Somewhere behind him, he heard a quiet thud like something soft against brick. 

“Keep moving,” said Dean. He came around to where Sam was standing, one hand behind his back. “I’ll meet you both you-know-where.” He nodded to Sam. 

“She’s clearly human,” said Sam, raising an eyebrow. 

Dean dipped into the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. He began wrapping the hand he’d kept hidden and Castiel realized he’d cut his hand to try the angel-banishing sigil. “Didn’t say she wasn’t,” snapped Dean. 

“I am human,” Castile offered quickly. He was grateful he’d kept his grace on a cord tucked beneath his shirt. The fabric was dark and thick enough to hide any glimmer his weakened grace might produce.

He swayed a bit where he stood. Something was clearly wrong with his vessel. He wondered if the sigil was somehow having an effect despite his human status. Perhaps it was the pain medication wearing off. The nurse warned him there could be some side effects. He’d worry about that later. 

“You can test me,” said Castiel. He met Dean’s accusatory glare and made no attempt to hide his enthusiasm. The sooner he earned their trust, the sooner he could resume helping them—and the sooner he could begin his own ridiculous experiment. 

Dean didn’t look away and instead he stalked closer. While one hand was still clinging to paper towels to stop the bleeding, the other grabbed a knife from a display near the table. 

“I’m gonna need you to prove it,” said Dean, extending blade to Castiel. 

Sam snatched it out of his brother’s grasp before Castiel had a chance to take it. “I already tried silver,” he said. “Besides, we’re not going to make her cut herself.” 

“I don’t mind, if that will assuage your doubts,” said Castiel. He extended his hand to accept the blade, but quickly jerked it back as a flash of deep purple caught his attention. For the first time, he noticed the backs of his fingernails were discolored. He checked the other hand and those fingernails appeared to be the same unnatural pigment. Perhaps this was the source of his discomfort. He suddenly felt a stinging sensation at his side. 

Dean snorted. “What, did Lucifer ruin your manicure?” 

A manicure. Castiel recognized the mocking tone Dean reserved for making jokes and references. Per usual, this reference made no sense. He tilted his head and frowned, dropping his hands back down to his sides. Uncertain as to whether or not Dean expected an answer, he decided to emulate Sam’s usual response to Dean’s comments. He made sure Dean was still watching him then gave a very deliberate eye-roll followed by an audible sigh. 

Sam laughed, but Dean’s scowl deepened and his mood did not improve.

“Who is your uncle?” asked Dean. 

“Uncle?” repeated Castiel. 

“You said your uncle told you about us. Who’s your uncle?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, lips twisting in a little pout. 

“Oh,” said Castiel, trying to remember his original lie. “My uncle is dead. His name is of little consequence now.” 

“If he knows us, his name is of big consequence,” snapped Dean. 

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think—” He stopped himself from correcting Dean and instead tried to think of a name. What was this vessel’s surname? Baum? He needed a given name. Castiel spat out the first name that came to mind. “Lot Baum.” 

It was Dean’s turned to be confused. “What?” 

“My uncle,” answered Castiel. This was a disaster. He was terrible with modern human names. “Uncle Lot Baum. He and I share a surname and his first name is Lot.” He was babbling again. 

Even Sam seemed skeptical. “Uncle Lot,” said Sam, glancing at the older Winchester. 

Castiel just nodded, too afraid to offer more information at the risk of making things worse. The pain at his side increased. 

“Ok,” said Dean, “follow me.” He turned on his heels and marched down the hall. Castiel did not wait for Sam and instead automatically fell instep behind Dean. 

“We _can’t_ put her in the dungeon,” shouted Sam, hurrying to catch up. 

“ _We_ don’t have to,” snapped Dean. “ _You_ can wait here and _I_ will put her in the dungeon.” 

“I don’t mind going in the dungeon,” offered Castiel. This was the next logical step to gaining Dean’s trust. 

“She’s just a human,” said Sam, this time stepping in front of his brother and blocking the path. “She’s not dangerous. We’ve done all the tests. And if she is dangerous, then she’s something we haven’t seen before and the dungeon—” 

“I don’t care what she is,” said Dean, cutting him off. “Lucifer wanted her. We don’t know why. The dungeon is the best solution to keep her safe and keep her contained.” 

Castiel was about to offer another suggestion, but he couldn’t quite remember the appropriate words. He held a hand against his side and felt his shirt clinging, warm and damp against his torso. He glanced down and examined the blood now coating his palm. He furrowed his brow and realized he must not have healed all of his injuries before stowing his grace in the vial. Perhaps this was what put him in the hospital. Perhaps this was the injury that killed the real Juliane Baum. 

The Winchesters hadn’t noticed yet. Castiel looked at his feet and noticed blood staining his jeans. 

“Unless you have a better idea, I’m locking her up,” said Dean. 

Castiel nodded, unconsciously agreeing with Dean even though no one was paying him any attention anymore. Dean needed more of a story. Castiel’s lie was too vague. Why would Lucifer be after him if he was not an angel? What did Lucifer want? What could he possibly need from a human? 

A small smile crept across his face as Castiel formed the next part of his lie. Lucifer only wanted one thing and that was to defeat Amara. To do that, he needed something touched by God.

 

xxx

 

Dean lurched forward and caught Juliane just before she hit the hard floor of the bunker. He’d only barely noticed she was falling. He saw her sway a couple times out of the corner of his eye then suddenly, her knees buckled. She clutched a hand to her side and mumbled as Dean laid her on the floor. 

“Shit,” said Dean. 

Sam practically jumped over them as he ran down the hall toward the dining room. “Check her stitches,” he called. 

“Shit,” Dean repeated. He lifted one side of her shirt and saw a blood-soaked bandage taped to her torso. His hands froze as the image of Cas splayed out and bleeding in the kitchen flashed in his mind. 

Sam returned quickly, arms full of first aid supplies. He threw some gauze at Dean and began removing the bandage. He cleaned the wound and Dean prepared to repair the sutures. 

“Useless fucking hospitals,” muttered Dean.

“Good Goddamn thing we didn’t lock her in the dungeon,” snapped Sam. 

“Just shut up and disinfect,” Dean bit back. He wrapped some gauze around his own hand first. It was still bleeding a little since he’d cut it for the sigil. Part of him worried he might contaminate Juliane with whatever jinxed Mark-of-Cain-Ex-Knight-of-Hell-Darkness-BFF blood he had running through his veins. 

Beneath them, Juliane let out a little sigh. “Artifact,” she said weakly. “Lucifer took it. Had it for years. Uncle Lot’s…” 

Dean looked at Sam quickly. His brother nodded. The Baum family must have owned a Hand of God artifact, or at least something Lucifer thought was a Hand of God. That explained it. “What did it look like?” asked Dean.

Sam shot him a look. 

“Just trying to keep her conscious,” said Dean. 

“Little thing,” muttered Juliane. “Little metal thing.” She tried to lift her hand to aid in her description. 

“A ring?” asked Sam.

“Yes.” Juliane nodded. “A ring. You wear them on your finger sometimes. They occasionally denote matrimonial bonds.” She waved her hand again. “Don’t remember which finger. There are so many.”

Dean finished with the stitches and began cutting strips of gauze to replace her soiled bandages. “Left hand, ring finger,” he said. 

Juliane smiled and closed her eyes. “Yes. That’s right. So obvious.” 

“We should call her family,” said Sam. He held two fingers at her throat, taking her pulse. “I think she’ll be all right, but she should be in her own home.” 

Juliane shook her head. “I don’t have a home.” 

“What about family?” asked Dean. 

She shook her head again. “Dead or missing.” 

Dean didn’t ask for details. Homeless with no family was practically in the hunter job description. “How much blood do you think she’s lost?” he asked. 

“It’s hard to say,” answered Sam. “Looks like a lot, but I think she can bounce back, assuming this is the only injury.”

Dean looked back to Juliane. “You hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “The pain is only coming from here.” She laid a hand over the newly bandaged area. 

Dean sat back on his knees and let out a breath. He had to stop himself from praying. He knew Castiel couldn’t hear him anymore. 

“We should take her back to the hospital,” said Sam. 

At that, Juliane’s eyes jerked open. “No,” she said quickly, a bit of strength returning to her voice. “I’m—I’m all right. I will heal. I don’t want to go back.” She tried to push herself up, brushing Sam’s hand away. 

Dean stopped her. “You don’t have to go back,” he said. “You can stay, we’re just worried.” She looked up at Dean and he suddenly became very aware of how blue her eyes were. His chest suddenly felt too warm and too cold all at once. He broke the gaze and looked at a spot on the floor instead.

“Can you take her to one of the spare rooms?” asked Sam. “I’m going to message Eileen. We need someone who can help her change and get cleaned up.” 

Dean nodded, still trying to avoid her eyes. “Can you stand?” he asked her. 

“I believe so,” she answered. 

Dean reached a hand out to her, wishing he could find an excuse to trade tasks. _You take her, Sammy,_ he thought. _Her stupid eyes remind me of my stupid angel who may be dead, and if he is, it's all my fault._ Dean realized, as she accepted his hand, her eyes were not the only painful resemblance. The way she tilted her head, her stilted speech pattern, her willingness to follow the brothers—she was very much like Cas. 

He helped her stand and Sam stepped away to text Eileen. Together, they rose to their feet, Juliane favoring her injured side. 

“Put your ar—um—hang on.” She was leaning against Dean and he suddenly found it difficult to speak. “Just hold on,” he said finally. He lifted her in his arms, careful not to put pressure on the wound. 

She tensed as he lifted her, but seemed to quickly relax once she understood what he was doing. He carried her down the hall to a spare bedroom. He should be enjoying this; playing hero. He should be putting more effort into showing off his strength, offering her some comforting words, telling her she was safe now and he wouldn’t let the monsters get her, but he couldn’t. 

As he helped her prop on the edge of the small single bed, he couldn’t help but wish he was helping Cas instead. He didn’t understand why his brain couldn’t separate her from the angel. He had a sick feeling it was some sort of cosmic punishment. He’d told himself he didn’t love Castiel and tried to fill his heart with disgust. He’d let his own frailties and insecurities bleed out and poison Castiel’s heart too. It was his fault Cas gave himself to Lucifer. If Dean hadn’t made him feel so despised, maybe Cas would have been in a better frame of mind when the devil came calling. Now, Dean was stuck with this stupid woman who was just enough like Castiel to make it painful every time Dean looked at her. 

 _Maybe she is Castiel_ , he thought. He shoved the idea away quickly. That was an excuse. He was just trying to let himself believe Cas escaped and was safe to ease his guilt. If anything, this woman was a reminder that Cas was still in trouble. Besides, Castiel would have told the Winchesters who he was by now. 

Juliane spoke softly and pulled him from his thoughts. “Thank you,” she said.

“Welcome,” muttered Dean. He pulled away from her and took a step back, folding his arms over his chest. 

Mercifully, Sam entered before she could speak again. “Eileen’s on the way,” he said. 

“I’ll meet her out front,” Dean said quickly. “Need to make a call anyway.” He’d figure out who was on the other end of his fake call later. Right now, he just needed some air.


	7. Crazy little woman in a one man show

Eileen and Juliane bonded quickly. Juliane knew sign language and the women had taken to having silent conversations without engaging the brothers. Sam used Juliane’s condition and the notion that “it would be nice to have another woman around to help Juliane recover” to convince Eileen to stay at the bunker. Though Dean suspected the patented Sam Winchester puppy-eyes made her stay more than anything else.

Dean didn’t complain. Another body to help find Lucifer couldn’t be a bad thing. Sam and Dean explained the situation as best they could to the new hunters. Juliane translated for the brothers when Sam’s budding sign language skills failed. 

Much to Dean’s surprise, neither woman jumped ship as soon as they heard what they were up against. Eileen took a few minutes to process before she signed something to Sam. Dean caught bits of their conversation (something “book” something “I saw” or “I know” something else “dead”). Whatever she said Sam agreed but Juliane shook her head. 

“That would be a wasted effort,” she said. 

“I missed that,” said Dean, “what are we talking about?”

“We should make a map of holy artifacts,” said Eileen.

Juliane nodded. “We could, or we could let Lucifer do the work for us. He must be searching and he is certainly better equipped than we are to find such items.” 

“What about your ring?” asked Dean. “What if it’s a Hand of God?”

“I do not believe it was,” answered Juliane. “It could be something he believes will lead him to a Hand of God, but I very much doubt it was anything more significant than that.” Juliane stared at Dean as she talked. “I think it would be best if we form a plan to defeat the victor. Lucifer’s search and eventual battle with Amara will buy us some time. We should use this to our advantage instead of duplicating his efforts.” 

Dean found a spot on the wall behind Juliane’s head and focused on it. “So we wait them out, then what? We hope Lucifer wins?” 

Juliane nodded. “He would be easier to subdue—I assume.” She cleared her throat and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. She finally broke eye contact with Dean.

“What if Amara wins?” asked Eileen. 

“If Amara wins,” Sam began carefully, “that would mean Lucifer failed _and_ the Hand of God failed. Which means we’d need God himself to contain Amara again, assuming he’s still strong enough.”

“He is strong enough,” muttered Juliane.

Dean shot her a sideways look. She was staring at her bare feet, hands clasped together on her lap. Sam and Eileen didn’t seem to notice her comment. 

“What if Lucifer gets killed before he can find the artifact?” asked Eileen. “We should have one as a backup.”

“That’s a good point,” said Sam.

Dean lost the rest of their conversation, and it seemed Juliane did too. She looked up from the floor and met his eyes—resuming that same unwavering stare. For a moment, Dean thought if he listened hard enough, he could hear her thoughts. 

“It’s late,” said Sam, checking the clock, “clearly we’ve already lost Dean.” He nudged his brother and Dean tore his eyes away from Juliane’s. 

“I’m listening,” muttered Dean. 

“We’ll sleep on it,” said Sam, nodding to Eileen. 

The two stood and hurried off to bed, bidding a hasty good night to Dean and Juliane. Dean was confused until his phone buzzed and he read the text from his brother. 

_“She likes you. Have fun. Don’t be a jerk. We might need her help later.”_

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

“They seem happy,” said Juliane. She was looking down the hall where Eileen and Sam had disappeared. 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean, “well, Sammy’s already lived through the apocalypse and Eileen probably doesn’t realize the size of the shit storm we just dragged her into. Not sure if that’s happy or stupid.” 

“I thought you explained the situation thoroughly,” she said. “I’m sure she understands.” She paused for a moment. “I believe it is possible to find happiness even when facing the inevitability of death and destruction. Humanity does it every day.” 

“What does that mean?” asked Dean. 

“Huma—We face death constantly,” said Juliane. “It’s the nature of mortality. We will die one day due to age, chance, cruelty, or something else. Yet, people still find ways to be happy. Perhaps Sam and Eileen have accepted their fates and are happy despite the grim implications of the future.”

Dean felt himself nodding in agreement, but he wasn’t really listening. Sammy was happy with Eileen. It was so obvious Juliane noticed. He could have been happy too. He could have been happy with Cas. He _was_ happy with Cas. Part of him wanted to go to Amara alone, trade himself for the world, or at least his little brother. But he knew she’d use him for something evil. She already had him under a spell; she didn’t need him to willingly submit. If Amara wanted Dean, she could just take him. He couldn’t offer himself. It would just weaken their team.

 

xxx

 

Castiel recognized that faraway look in Dean’s eyes. He wasn’t listening. This new vessel was no better at keeping Dean’s attention than his old one. He wanted to tell Dean he had a way to find God, but that would require insider knowledge. It would require him to admit that he’d retrieved the amulet Sam gave Dean when they were children and stashed it in the bunker. It would require him admitting who he was, which would be a small price to pay for saving the world. Finding God took precedent over his stupid game. 

He placed a hand on his neck and unconsciously played with the cord of the necklace tucked beneath his shirt. The amulet hung beside his grace under a baggy flannel shirt he borrowed from Dean. He'd retrieved it from its hiding place one night when the bunker was quiet. He could continue with his game and keep the amulet to find God. Dean didn’t need to know. He could “multi-task” as he’d seen Sam do so many times before. 

He brought his hands down to his lap to rest on jeans he borrowed from Eileen. He distantly realized he needed a wardrobe. He could not continue to borrow clothes and consume resources without giving back. He needed to contribute. He could get a job, but normal hunters didn’t have jobs. Dean played pool for money and committed credit card fraud. He could do that. 

It wasn’t until he heard the hunter sigh that Castiel realized Dean’s attention was back on him.

“How are your stitches holding up?” asked Dean. 

“Very well,” Castiel answered. “The pain is also more tolerable.”

“I’m sorry you got caught in this mess,” said Dean. “We’re not exactly dealing with standard hunting practices.” 

“I am glad I can help,” said Castiel. _I’m glad to be with you again,_ he thought. 

Dean sighed again. “I’m gonna hit the sack. Need anything before I go?”

Castiel shook his head. 

Dean stood. “You know where I am if you need me. Don’t stay up too late. We’ve got an ass load of work to do tomorrow.” With that, he left. 

Castiel suddenly realized he had a problem. He had no idea how to initiate any kind of romantic interaction with Dean. He knew the process, but the subtleties of flirting were never something he fully grasped in his time as a human, much less as an angel.

As he lay in bed that night, he tried to organize his thoughts. Priority one was of course, figure out how to use the amulet. Priority two was figure out how to let Dean know of his interest in him as a romantic heterosexual partner.

 

xxx

 

Castiel sat in the war room with Eileen while the brothers went on a supply run. Eileen was quiet, but she kept shooting quick little glances from across the table as though she wanted to strike up a conversation. When she looked up again, Castiel decided to inquire further.

“Is something on your mind?” He spoke and signed simultaneously. Eileen could read lips, but there was something soothing about their unspoken conversations.

Eileen responded in sign language. “Yes, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Castiel followed her lead and signed back. “I assure you, you will not.” 

“Can we talk just girl to girl?” 

Castiel frowned. “I’m not sure how else we could talk considering there are no men present.”

Eileen grinned. “No, I meant girl talk. About you and Dean.” 

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. He’d never been invited to engage in “girl talk” and wondered if this was a new privilege awarded because of his new gender. “What about Dean?” 

“Do you like him? You keep staring at him. I just wondered.” 

Castiel felt his face flush. He tried to respond but found himself at a loss for words. He finally settled on something non-committal but honest. “He his a good man.” 

Eileen just rolled her eyes. “You can be honest. I’m not going to report back to Sam.” 

Castiel ran a hand through his hair only to get his fingers tangled in it once again. He was beginning to realize this vessel required a bit more maintenance than his previous body. He made a mental note to brush his hair again before going to bed. 

Eileen must have noticed his hesitancy because she finally responded for him. “It’s ok. It was a stupid question. You don’t have to answer.” 

Castiel shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry. I supposed I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“What do you mean?”

Castiel leaned back in tattered chair. “I do have an interest in Dean. But…” He wasn’t sure how to end that sentence. _But if he ever found out I was lying to him he may never speak to me again,_ he thought. 

“But he’s hard to read?” asked Eileen. 

Castiel accepted the out. “Yes.” 

“You could flirt a little more and see how he reacts.” 

Castiel shook his head again. “I don’t know how.”

“I can help you,” she offered. “I’m not great at it, but it might be fun to do something frivolous while we figure out how to save the world. I certainly wouldn’t mind a distraction.” 

Castiel furrowed his brow. “You would be willing to help me?” 

“Absolutely,” answered Eileen. “Hell, maybe I could learn a thing or two in the process.”

“I would be very grateful for your help,” Castiel responded. He didn’t understand her willingness, but he’d seen Dean assist Sam in talking to women when they went out. He realized flirting must involve some kind of group effort. It made sense considering how difficult it was to do the task successfully. He thanked Eileen who suddenly seemed more excited than he was.

“Let’s take a break,” she suggested. “We need a plan for when your boy gets back.”

With that, she pulled Castiel from the war room and into his bedroom, discussing their next plan of action for “his boy.”

 


	8. Let me drive you crazy, come on and love me baby

Juliane wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smudging the dirt and sweat together as she did. They were exhausted from digging. She stood above the uncovered grave next to Dean. He ignited the open coffin and they watched the bones burn. 

About three feet away, Sam and Eileen did the same. They’d just wrapped up a nasty case of poltergeist twins haunting a farm in Maine. Sam had said they should let other hunters handle it, but Dean insisted on going. He was desperate to leave the bunker and think about something other than their current world-ending predicament.

It was a nice break. He’d taken his time getting to the location, the road trip lasting three days instead of two. It was nice to take it slow rather than speed across the country in an attempt to shave some time from the normally 27-hour trip. 

The case was fairly cut and dry. Eileen and Juliane were useful additions to the team. He only resented their presence once or twice. He’d suggested they split up to case the area and he naturally expected to go with Sam and leave the girls to explore the house. However, as soon as he said, “we’ll take the barn,” Juliane moved to his side as though she was the obvious partner. It happened again when they dug the graves, which was how he ended up standing next to her while Sam and Eileen burned the other body not far away. 

“I’m glad we did this,” said Juliane. About a week ago, she’d stopped staring so intently at Dean when she spoke. They’d fallen into an odd routine of having conversations side by side while looking straight ahead. 

Dean grunted in agreement. He preferred not looking at her. He knew he was attracted to her when he saw her in the hospital. He suspected she would become some kind of emotional problem for him when they brought her back to the bunker. He confirmed she was a problem when he watched her fire his sawed-off at one of the twins earlier today. Attraction didn’t begin to cover all the things he was feeling now. The problem was only compounded by what he was pretty sure were her attempts at flirting with him.

If he didn’t deal with this soon, it would only get worse. He stared into the flames dying slowly below them, shifting his weight trying to decide whether to move closer to her or step away. He risked a sideways glance and caught her watching him. Their eyes met and he felt a familiar warm tingling sensation spreading through his chest. That cemented it. He hated her. He had to hate her. Love and hate were so close in his mind it was easy to transition the feeling. He told himself it was because of Amara. The Darkness probably planned to destroy everyone he loved eventually, no reason to add to the body count. 

In the back of his mind, a small little voice spoke up, strong enough this time, that he couldn’t ignore it. _Can’t give up on Cas,_ it whispered. Dean didn’t even try to fight it. He turned away from the grave without a word and retreated to the shelter of the Impala. The ghost of his father’s shame and disgust rose up again, but Dean was so exhausted by his own guilt he barely noticed. _He_ made Cas leave. _He_ made Cas sacrifice himself for the Devil’s plan. _He_ rejected Cas, lied to him; poisoned their fragile relationship with his own self-loathing. The memory of that night—the night before Cas left—burned in his mind. His father’s homophobic ranting was quickly drowned out by Dean’s own disgusted tirade. Ever loyal to his father, he’d let the past dictate his future, and this time Dean wasn’t the only one who suffered. He’d let his emotions betray Cas once. He wasn’t going to do it again.

 

xxx

 

Castiel watched Sam and Eileen at the adjacent grave. They stood close, Sam’s arm resting across Eileen’s shoulders. He supposed, ignoring the location and decaying corpses below, standing in the darkness by the firelight created something of a romantic atmosphere. 

“I’m glad we did this,” he said quietly. 

Dean grumbled something incoherent beside him. The hunter seemed lost in thought. Castiel risked looking at his friend. Eileen had advised him to stop staring. She said it would either be intimidating or creepy, neither of which were good. She’d given him many useful tips over the past week. She even took him to find clothes for his new vessel, an experience that proved more tedious than enjoyable for him, but Eileen seemed to have fun. They were quickly becoming close friends and he was grateful Sam had finally found someone who deserved him. 

Dean glanced at Castiel and quickly looked away before Castiel realized he was staring again. Castiel tried to focus on the fire again, but the damage was done. Dean turned from the grave and walked back to his vehicle without a word. 

Across the burning graves, Eileen looked up at him, saw Dean leaving, and looked back at Castiel, head tilted to the side and brows knitted together questioningly. Castiel made sure Sam wasn’t paying attention before he signed, “I was staring.” 

Eileen smiled and rolled her eyes. She nudged Sam and pointed toward the Impala. 

Sam frowned and looked to Castiel for an answer. “Is he all right?” 

“I’m not sure,” answered Castiel. “He left without saying anything.” 

Sam sighed. “I’ll check on him.” He moved to leave, but Eileen stopped him. 

“I’m sure he’s ok,” she signed. “Stay with me, let Jules check on him.” She winked at Castiel. 

Sam acquiesced and looked to Castiel expectantly. 

“I will go check on him,” echoed Castiel. He wanted to go to Dean, but he was certain Dean would prefer to speak with Sam. But, with another encouraging look from Eileen, he turned and followed his friend’s path to the Impala. 

Dean said nothing when Castiel opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat beside him. Castiel was careful to stay on his side so he wouldn’t invade Dean’s space. Then he remembered Eileen’s lecture on “open body language” so he repositioned himself. He shifted his knees so they were pointing somewhat towards Dean and turned his torso in the same direction. He let one hand rest on the seat beside him, fingers pointing towards Dean, and let the other hand prop awkwardly between his body and the door. 

After a few moments of strained silence, Castiel worked up the courage to speak. “You left abruptly,” he muttered. “We thought something might be wrong.” He realized he was responding to a question Dean didn’t ask, but decided it was better than saying nothing at all. 

“And you drew the short straw?” asked Dean. 

“We did not draw straws, Eileen merely suggested I speak with you,” answered Castiel.

Dean sighed, a labored and exhausted sound. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just taking some time to myself. It’s hard to think when we’re all crammed in the car together.” 

“Are you thinking about Amara?” asked Castiel. When the Winchesters debriefed him and Eileen, they’d conveniently omitted the part where Dean felt an emotional connection to the Darkness. That was privileged information. He only knew because Lucifer knew and had gleefully informed him of Dean’s predicament while they’d shared a vessel. The brothers had also avoided giving too much information about Castiel. Sam had explained Lucifer was possessing another angel who was a good friend, but offered little else. 

Dean nodded but Castiel recognized the look on his face and new something else was troubling the hunter. “What’s really bothering you?” He shouldn’t pry, he knew better, but it seemed to get Dean’s attention. He looked up and met Castiel’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed between them. 

“I’m just tired,” said Dean with a half smile. 

“You’ve been through a great deal,” said Castiel. In the dark, quiet warmth of the Impala, the urge to reveal his secret grew exponentially. When Dean didn’t respond, Castiel risked elaborating. “You and your brother—your entire family—have done so much for this world,” he said quietly. “You have faced death and hopelessness and more destruction than most would see in a life time—and you have both conducted yourselves admirably.” 

At that, Dean let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “If you knew more about us you wouldn’t say that.” 

“I know enough,” said Castiel, biting his tongue. “I’ve heard the stories. I know what you’ve done, what you’ve sacrificed. I know enough to be grateful that hunters like you two exist.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. He knew better than to let himself keep talking but he was desperate to bask in the intimacy of the moment. “We would be—I would be lost without you.” He kept his eyes on Dean, Eileen’s voice in his head telling him to look away. Dean was still watching him and Castiel would not be the first one to break eye contact. 

Dean’s eyes glittered in the darkness. He ran a hand over his face in an attempt to conceal his tears. He looked away from Castiel for just a moment, then resumed their shared gaze. 

Again Castiel found himself in the strange positing of feeling he should make some sort of move, but not being certain it was allowed. He didn’t want to risk ruining another moment with his impatience. He ached to reach for Dean, to touch him and try to heal whatever was hurting him. His resolved weakened and he allowed the hand on the seat to inch forward, cautiously, fingertips just barely brushing against Dean’s hand. 

Dean flinched, but didn’t pull away. 

Castiel decided Dean must be punishing himself for something, denying himself comfort as penance for some unknown sin he’d committed. Emboldened, and determined to ease his friend’s pain, he slid closer to Dean and pulled him into an embrace. 

This time, Dean didn’t resist. He collapsed in Castiel’s arms and let his forehead rest on his shoulder. Castiel didn’t push for more. This embrace soothed the hot ache in his chest like a cooling salve. It was enough. It was Dean, vulnerable and hurt, and Castiel able to heal him with a touch. It was right, and for now, Castiel couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.


	9. I believe you can get me through the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two (short) chapters in one day? What is the world coming to??? Happy Easter!

Dean stayed wrapped in Juliane’s arms in the silence of the Impala until the flames died down and it was time to rebury the singed bodies. He told himself he did it because she’d insisted and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He told himself Sam and Eileen were trying to set him up and he didn’t feel like arguing with them. He told himself it was just this once, then he’d stay away from her. He told himself he didn’t feel anything for her and nothing, no one, could come close to replacing Cas. 

He realized, as the four of them covered the bodies, that he was replacing Cas. If he allowed himself to fall in love with Juliane, it would all but kill Castiel. With every shovelful of dirt, he allowed his heart to harden. By the time the graves were covered, everything he felt for Juliane was shoved down so deep in his heart; even whiskey would have a hard time weaseling the feelings out of him. 

They made the trip back to Lebanon in two days. When they returned, Dean headed straight to the library, laptop in one hand, coffee in the other. Juliane, mercifully, did not follow him. Sam and Eileen retreated to their room. 

Dean was exhausted from the drive, they all were, but no one had argued when he said they’d dicked around enough and needed to get home asap. 

He set his laptop on the table and pulled open an old book with leather binding. It bore an unnerving resemblance to human skin, but Dean ignored the cover and dove into the pages. 

As the hours passed, Dean struggled to fight off sleep with more coffee. He knew he couldn’t resist it forever. Finally, after another fruitless venture through another dust-covered volume, he let his head rest on the table. Fifteen minutes. That’s it. He’d sleep for fifteen minutes, then resume his search. 

He awoke suddenly when he heard a loud bang coming from the front of the bunker. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He heard it again and shot out of his chair. It was coming from the front door. He ran with no clear idea of what he was going to do. Part of him already knew what he would find. 

He yanked open the door and ran out into the pouring rain. Castiel lay crumpled by the entrance. Mud, water and blood stained his trench coat. Somewhere deep in his mind, Dean knew this was another dream, but he couldn’t pull himself out of it. It felt too real. 

Castiel was muttering something. Dean lifted the angel into his arms and carried him into the bunker. It was quiet but for the sound of Cas’ ragged breathing.

“Dean,” he whispered. 

“Don’t worry,” said Dean. “I know how to save you this time.” He laid him on the floor and cut Cas’ clothes away again, then grabbed the first aid kit. He wouldn’t let Cas waste time with apologies. 

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Castiel. 

“I know you are,” said Dean. He was already stitching the gash across Castiel’s chest. His injuries were the same as in the dream before. “I don’t hate you. I know you love me. Save your strength.” 

Cas tried to speak, but choked on blood and coughed. Dean wiped the blood away with one hand. He was almost done with the wound on his torso, then he could inspect Castiel for more damage. 

“Hang on, ok,” said Dean. “I can fix this. Don’t leave me Cas.” 

Castiel didn’t protest this time, nor did he try to speak. His eyelids fluttered and Dean knew he was struggling to stay conscious. 

“Don’t leave me,” repeated Dean. “We’ve got time. I can fix you.” 

He worked much faster than he did in the dream before. He finished with the stitches and gently lifted Castiel again. He propped him up so Dean could inspect his back. Dean’s heart dropped in his chest when he saw the damage. 

Massive black and purple bruises stretched from his shoulders down to the base of his spine. Castiel’s back was covered in deep but narrow gashes that were still bleeding. It looked like he been thrown from an immense height and landed on something jagged and hard. 

Dean laid him down again, helpless. 

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel whispered, his voice so soft Dean could barely hear it. 

“Please don’t leave me,” begged Dean. “I can fix you.” He held Castiel in his arms, making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. 

Castiel struggled to keep his eyes open, but after a moment, they fluttered shut and he fell still in Dean’s arms. 

Dean was pulled from the dream suddenly before the blackness consumed him and he began falling like the time before. He awoke to Juliane looking down at him, one hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you all right?” she asked. 

Dean nodded. He reached for what was probably very cold coffee, but Juliane pushed it out of his reach. 

“You need to sleep,” she said. 

“I’m fine. Just nodded off for a bit,” said Dean. “I feel much better now.”

“Bullshit,” she said, the curse word sounding stiff and awkward. “You drove for twelve hours then came straight in here without resting. You are exhausted. You need real sleep.” 

“I just got some sleep,” Dean argued back. He resented being scolded like a child. 

“That was not restful sleep and judging by your heart rate, you were having a nightmare.” 

“You took my pulse?” asked Dean. 

At that, Juliane blushed, but her scowl deepened. “I did.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

Dean ignored the timid little look that flashed across her face. “What are you doing down here anyway? Why aren’t you sleeping?” He glanced at his watch to confirm the time. It was a little past one in the morning. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” muttered Juliane. “I saw the light on in here and heard—saw you.” 

Dean caught the word before she could stumble over it. He felt the blood drain from his cheeks. He was talking in his sleep.

 

xxx

 

Castiel rubbed his thumb against his skin. He held his crossed arms tightly over his chest. He knew he was blushing. He could feel the warmth rising in his vessel’s face. He knew he’d said too much before Dean asked him to clarify. 

“You _heard_ me?” asked Dean. 

Castiel decided truth was better. “You sounded distraught. I thought something might be wrong.” 

“What did I say?” asked Dean. 

“It sounded like you were trying to mend something,” answered Castiel, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Dean was getting defensive, though he’d said nothing incriminating while he was sleeping. Castiel realized Dean was trying to find out what he’d revealed while he was unconscious. “You kept repeating ‘I can fix this.’ You sounded upset, so I woke you.” 

“Oh,” said Dean. He turned his attention back to the book one the table. 

Castiel decided again to be bold, and sat in the chair beside the hunter. He laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You really should sleep,” he said. “These books will be here in the morning.” 

Dean eyed him reluctantly, but finally relented. “Four hours,” he muttered. “Don’t touch the books.” He pushed himself up from the table and trudged off to his room. 

Part of Castiel wished Dean had refused so they could sit alone together, but rest was more important for Dean right now. Despite Dean’s warning, Castiel settled in to investigate Dean’s research. 

Almost every book in the Men of Letters library was in one of the many stacks littering the room. The section Dean was currently combing through was about angels. Castiel frowned and tilted his head as he inspected Dean’s notes and the pages he’d marked. He was surprised Dean was focusing on angels instead of Amara. 

It didn’t take him long to understand what Dean must be hoping to find. He was searching for past incidents of two angels occupying one vessel. He was trying to find away to expel one without expelling both. Dean was trying to find a way to save him and his vessel. 

Castiel felt a new little surge of guilt at Dean’s wasted efforts. He was fine. Dean should be looking for more important things. 

His hand came to rest on the necklace tucked against his chest. Perhaps he should show the amulet to the brothers. Maybe they needed to know. Maybe keeping it a secret was doing more harm than good. Maybe they needed inspiration to search for God. At the very least, Dean needed to stop wasting his time trying to save an angel who was already out of harms way. 

He pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt and examined the grace and amulet that hung from the cord. He wasn’t ready to tell Dean, to reveal his plan, but continuing the lie was reckless.

 

xxx

 

Dean stopped short of the library entrance when he saw what Juliane was holding. He pressed himself flat against the wall and held his breath in the darkness. From the looks of it, two items dangled from the cord around her neck. One was small and hard to distinguish, but the other was unmistakable. She had grace. Somehow she was holding onto angel grace. He should have known. She was an angel. That explained why she reminded him so much of Cas.

Her weird mannerisms and over-formal quirks were pretty par for the course for angel behavior. Though why she was hiding what she was, he could only begin to guess. 

 _Hunter my ass_ , thought Dean. _Never heard of a hunter getting their hands on grace and living to tell the tale._ He scowled into the dimly lit room. The last thing he needed in his life was another fallen angel.


	10. We can't go on together, with suspicious minds

Dean didn’t tell Sammy about Juliane and her suspicious little vial of grace. He kept that secret to himself and kept a close watch on her. 

A nagging little feeling told him they didn’t stumble upon her by accident. Dean decided she must have been searching for the boys; why else would she be in Lebanon? 

He’d been watching her closely for several days since catching her with the vial. Now, she was sitting at the table across from Eileen discussing God knows what. He glared at her from the kitchen. 

Juliane was most likely a spy sent by Lucifer to infiltrate the bunker. Her whole I’m-wounded-please-save-me bit must have been an act to gain their trust. Of course she’d removed her grace. Lucifer probably warned her about the Winchesters and their tendency to banish angels. No wonder nothing worked. She was technically human. 

“Just ask her out already,” hissed Sam. 

Dean jumped; unaware his brother was watching him. “Ask who where?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jules. You stare at her almost as much as you stared at Cas.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Dean. He turned his attention to Sam who was in the process of mixing some kind of nasty green mush in the blender.

“If you like her, talk to her,” said Sam. “Quit lurking.” 

“I’m _not_ lurking and I do _not_ like her.”

Sam muttered something that sounded like “denial” and “again,” but Dean didn’t ask him to repeat whatever it was. 

“I don’t trust her,” Dean growled.

“Right,” muttered Sam. “That’s why you’re in here watching her and not eating your sandwich.”

Dean had forgotten he even made a sandwich. It sat untouched on the counter beside him.

“Just talk to her,” said Sam, sighing. “Eileen thinks you guys would be good together.” 

Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Jesus, are you match-making now? You know we can’t all be stupid adorable couples like you two.” He took a bite of his sandwich as though that action would disprove Sam’s argument. 

“Whatever,” said Sam. He poured the green mush into three glasses and left to join the girls.

Later that night, after everyone was asleep, Dean sat alone at the table with his nose buried in a book about angels. He was determined to find a way to test her. Maybe he could get ahold of her grace and force her to become an angel again, then banish her from the bunker. He could explain himself to Sammy and Eileen later.

“Hello Dean.”

He looked up, startled, and saw Juliane approaching. _Speak of the Devil_ , he thought.

“May I join you?” she asked. 

“Go for it,” muttered Dean. He watched Juliane’s eyes flash to the cover of the book, then look away quickly. _That’s right you son of a bitch_ , he thought, _I’m fucking on to you._  

“I believe I’ve found a case,” she said. She was playing with a rebellious strand of hair, head tilted to one side and Dean cursed at himself for being even slightly distracted by it.

“What’d you find?” he asked. Hating her was easier now that he considered her the enemy. He wondered if she knew Lucifer was holding Cas hostage. Surely she did. If she was an angel working with Lucifer she probably knew a lot. The thought of her conspiring with the Devil while Cas watched, helplessly entombed in his own body, sent a new wave of hatred through Dean. Part of him was glad Sam never let him take her to the dungeon. He wasn’t sure he could keep himself from ripping her apart before they had a chance to interrogate her. 

“People are experiencing unseasonable activity in eastern New Mexico,” she said. “Several people have frozen to death, even though temperatures in the area have not dropped below 60 degrees.”

“Maybe somebody is putting people in meat locker then dumping the bodies,” said Dean. He was not interested in going on another hunt, especially a hunt that Juliane suggested. This was also probably part of her plan.

“That is one theory, but there is a witness who claims to have seen something—something interesting.” 

“Like?” Maybe, if this was part of her plan, he should play along. Maybe he could find out more about her if he let her think he was falling for her trap. 

“The witness said she heard her boyfriend leave their house late in the night. She followed him and saw him following a ‘glowing figure.’” She used air quotes to emphasize the description. “The report says she went in search of the young man after losing sight of him and found him frozen to death in a park about thirty minutes later.” 

“You thinking ghost?” asked Dean.

“At first, yes,” answered Juliane. “But I don’t think a ghost would have the power to freeze someone to death.” 

“Well it sounds like something, I’ll give you that,” said Dean. He’d go with her. He’d tell Sam he wanted to spend time one-on-one with her. That way Dean could question her without any judgment from his brother. 

“So you think we should investigate?” She looked so proud of herself. 

 _You think you’re really fucking clever, don’t you,_ thought Dean. “Yeah, let’s check it out.” 

“Great. Eileen said you would agree. We are prepared to leave when ever you are ready.” 

“We?” asked Dean. 

Juliane nodded. “I’ve already discussed this with both Eileen and Sam, but they suggested I let you make the final decision.” 

“God damnit,” muttered Dean. Sam couldn’t keep his nose out of Dean’s business for five fucking seconds. He rubbed his forehead. 

“You seem irritated,” said Juliane.

“Nope,” said Dean. “Just tired.” Of course she was one step ahead of him. Angels weren’t as clumsy as demons. She’d planned all along to have all three of them go with her. He was going to have to step up his game. “We’ll head out in the morning.”

 

xxx

 

“It’s a called a yuki-onna,” said Sam. “And get this, it mainly feeds on men by consuming their life force and freezing them to death.” The four of them were crammed around a table in what the Roadside Motel generously described as a kitchenette suite. 

Dean hadn’t had a minute of privacy with Juliane since they’d arrived. The girls had one room and he and Sam were in another. Eileen and Juliane had taken to playing FBI while Sam and Dean lurked around town gathering information about the case. 

They’d agreed to meet back in the boys’ room for dinner and debriefing. Eileen stood behind Sam, leaning over his shoulder to read. 

“Is it a spirit?” she asked. 

Sam shrugged. “I think so, or something like it.” 

“How do we kill it?” asked Dean. He didn’t care what it was, he was too busy making mental notes about Juliane’s behavior. So far, she’d done nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Looks like we have to set it on fire,” answered Sam. 

“How the hell are we supposed to set a spirit on fire?” asked Dean. 

“We could trap it within a structure and ignite that,” suggested Juliane. She was sitting on the other side of Sam with her chin propped on her hand, a little scowl forming on her face. 

“Good call,” said Dean, before anyone could suggest otherwise. He wanted to make sure this went exactly as Juliane wanted so he could figure out her endgame. 

Juliane perked up at his encouragement. “We could lure it into a small building encircled with salt. Once the yuki-onna is inside, we complete the circle so she cannot escape then set fire to the building.” 

“Perfect,” said Dean. 

Juliane beamed. 

“What if that doesn’t work?” asked Sam. “Do we have a plan B?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Dean. Juliane now had his complete and undivided attention. “How do we lure it into the building?” 

“Well,” began Juliane, glancing between the brothers, “because the spirit—or being—is drawn to men, I suggest you and Sam split up and try to draw her out. Eileen and I will wait at a predetermined location. Once you are both safely out of the way, we can kill it.” 

“So we’re bait?” asked Sam. 

“We split up?” asked Dean. Maybe that was it. Maybe Lucifer was too much of a bitch to try to take down both him and Sam at once. He had failed at it twice before. Maybe he’d finally learned his lesson. 

“You don’t have to,” said Juliane quickly, “but I think she will be more likely to prey upon an individual.” 

“I’ll be bait,” said Dean. “Sammy, you and Eileen are on salt duty. Juliane, wait for his cue then light the thing up.” 

Juliane frowned slightly, but didn’t protest. _You’re going down_ , thought Dean.

 

xxx

 

Castiel couldn’t help but be proud of his plan. Dean accepted it so willingly, which meant he must be doing something right. They decided to target the scene of the yuki-onna’s most recent attack. The latest victim’s girlfriend was too traumatized to return to her home, which worked to their advantage because there was an old tool shed in the back yard. 

That night, he, Sam and Eileen prepared the shed while Dean went hunting. Castiel fought against his instinct to go with Dean. Logically, he knew this creature was not nearly as dangerous as other monsters they’d faced, but it still felt wrong to let Dean face her on his own. 

Castiel doused the inner walls of the small building in lighter fluid. Sam left the salt circle broken to make sure the yuki-onna could enter. While they waited for Dean to return, they investigated the shed and moved a few things outside—Eileen’s suggestion. She said they should be careful as to not destroy anything of value, sentimental or otherwise. 

Sam sent Dean a text to let him know the trap was set. After an hour, and no sign of Dean, Sam messaged him again. After a half hour and still nothing, Castiel volunteered to go in search of him. Three people manning the shed was excessive anyway. The only reason he hadn’t protested when Dean suggested it was because he knew Dean probably didn’t want to put Sam in danger. 

Castiel walked down the quiet, empty street, eyes straining into the darkness for any sign of Dean. Impatient, he called Dean. When the call went to voicemail, his heart sped up a bit. 

He passed the site where they’d parked the Impala. It was difficult to make a car like that seem inconspicuous in a neighborhood, but at least they’d made an effort to conceal themselves by parking it a block away. 

Something glittered in the drainage ditch several yards ahead. Castiel held his breath as he approached. Dean lay on his side in the mud and grass with Castiel’s angel blade clutched in one hand.

Castiel rushed forward and instinctively touched a hand to his forehead. Dean’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t speak. “Can you hear me?” asked Castiel. He gripped Dean by the shoulder and tried to pull him out of the mud. Dean was shivering and his skin felt like ice, but he was alive.


	11. When I'm tired and thinking cold I hide in my music, forget the day

Castiel cursed as he struggled to lift Dean. This vessel was much smaller than Dean and lacked the muscle mass to lift him as easily as Castiel was accustomed to doing. He considered, very briefly, using his grace, but knew the risk would be too great. If Lucifer or Amara found them because of Castiel, he’d never forgive himself. 

Sam was not answering his phone. 

“Damnit,” said Castiel. He had to get Dean back to the motel. He gritted his teeth and shoved one arm under Dean’s shoulder and wrapped it around Dean’s waist.

Dean, apparently somewhat conscious, seemed to understand what Castiel was trying to do. Together, they struggled to their feet and Castiel pulled them toward the Impala. 

Dean’s skin felt colder now than it did before. Once they reached the car, Castiel used it to pin Dean between it and his body while he dug in Dean’s pockets for the keys. He unlocked the car quickly and let Dean fall into the front seat. He hurried to the other side and got behind the wheel. 

“Sammy,” Dean stuttered.

"We're going back for him," answered Castiel. "Don't worry. I won't leave him." 

Just then, Castiel saw something bright glowing between the trees a few streets over. Fire. He cranked the engine and threw the car into drive. The creature must have found Sam and Eileen while Castiel was gone. He hoped the fire meant their plan was successful.

He brought the car to an abrupt halt just as Sam and Eileen were rounding the corner of the front of the house. They threw themselves into the back seat without hesitation.

“Firemen and police are on the way,” said Eileen. 

Sam was already hanging over the seat to inspect Dean. “We killed it,” he said. “What happened?” 

Dean just shivered again in response. 

“I found him like that,” answered Castiel. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice for Sam’s sake, but he knew he was failing. “I assumed she tried to attack. He had an angel blade, perhaps that scared her away.” He sped through a red light. 

“Fuck,” hissed Sam. “His pulse is getting weaker.” He had one arm draped over the seat and his hand pressed against his brother’s neck. “Is it a spell? How do we fix this?” 

“I don’t know,” shouted Castiel. He didn’t mean to shout. Sam was asking the right questions. His hand went to the vial around his neck again. He could use his grace just long enough to heal Dean. If Lucifer came after them, he could hold him off long enough for the others to escape. 

Behind him, Sam was peeling off clothing and piling them on top of Dean. Eileen followed suit. 

They finally reached the motel parking and Castiel helped Sam carry Dean inside their room. 

“Bathroom,” said Castiel. “I’ll keep him warm, you see if a yuki-onna uses magic.” If Dean’s condition did not improve soon, he would have no other choice but to use his grace. It was worth the risk. 

Sam helped him set Dean down in the bathtub. Eileen gathered their notebooks and laptop and set everything up just outside the door. 

Castiel turned the water on, just shy of scalding, then began removing shoes and the outer layers of clothing from Dean. “Can you hear me?” asked Castiel, his voice shaking with desperation. No response. Dean’s head rolled to one side and he slid down further into the tub. 

Without thinking, Castiel pulled off his own shoes and socks and crawled into the tub and positioned himself behind Dean. He clutched the hunter to his chest, hoping his own body heat would help. Dean was ice cold and his skin was unnervingly pale. 

Sam crouched on the bathroom floor searching among the books Eileen passed his way. “Hand me Bobby’s journal,” he said. Eileen grabbed it and threw it to him. 

Castiel was barely aware of them. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone,” he whispered. He wrapped both arms around Dean and rested his forehead on his shoulder.

 

xxx

 

Dean knew something was wrong when the creature stopped following him. He held Castiel’s angel blade out in front of him, ready to attack. He was so close. She just needed to follow him a little further. 

The yuki-onna hovered in the middle of the street, watching him. She was sizing him up, looking for the best angle. He knew that look. She was done hunting. She was getting ready for the kill. 

He held his ground as she lunged forward. The blade grazed her arm and she shrieked, but didn’t slow down. If anything his counter attack just seemed to piss her off. She grabbed his face in her pale translucent hands and Dean instantly felt a chill run through him. He dropped his arms to his sides, struggling against the biting cold.

She released him and he collapsed, rolling into the ditch beside the street. He saw her float away, apparently enticed by something else, then everything went dark. 

He awoke again when he felt something burning his shoulder. _Cas._ He must be dreaming again. This is how he was going to die. After everything he’d lived through, death by frostbite, would be the end of him. 

The burning sensation grew stronger. Someone was tugging on him. He struggled to crack his eyes open. Juliane knelt beside him struggling to pull him into a sitting position. She had a vice-like grip on his shoulder and the heat radiating out from beneath her palm was a welcome contradiction to the cold trying to consume the rest of his body. 

Something blue was glowing under her shirt and her eyes were wide with panic. Dean squinted, his thoughts sluggish and reluctant. Her grace. It was reacting to something. 

She pulled him upright and he felt his body slump against hers. She was mercifully warm. He felt the cold subside. She wrapped an arm around him and helped him stand. It didn’t make sense. If she was working with Lucifer, why help him? Something was wrong, but Dean couldn’t make sense of it. His brain was too foggy and tired. 

When he came around again he was soaking wet, and two firm hands were pressed against his chest. _Cas._  

Behind him, a voice whispered into his neck. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” Juliane. Not Cas. 

Dean blinked slowly, the warm water slowly reviving his senses one at a time. Juliane was behind him in the water, her body pressed against his, supporting him. He could hear Sam talking to Eileen. They were going on about magic or something. 

Juliane’s hand left his chest and rested on his shoulder. Her fingers stroked the skin beneath the hem of his t-shirt. Her hand burned against him once again. 

Dean gasped as his body and mind finally recovered and he was able to put the pieces together. The way she cocked her head to the side, the staring, her weird, awkward little ticks, the God damn way her grace and his body reacted when she touched the scar Castiel left on his shoulder; it was so obvious once he thought about it. But why hadn’t Cas said anything? Why the secrecy? Why let Dean believe he was still imprisoned with Lucifer?

Lucky for Castiel, Dean was too relieved to be angry. He may not have recognized his friend, but the freaking handprint on his shoulder did. 

He moved one hand, testing his reflexes. It didn’t hurt to move anymore. Slowly, he brought his hand up to the one still clutching his chest and squeezed. He heard and felt Castiel gasp behind him and he grinned. 

“Oh thank god,” said Sam. He rushed forward and put one gigantic, warm sasquatch hand on Dean’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” he said. 

“She was saving you for later,” said Sam, words gushing out of him. He pointed to the books lying one the bathroom floor. “The yuki-onna probably meant to go back for you. I kept thinking burning her should have broken whatever spell she’d cast, but there isn’t a damn thing in any of these books that indicates those things can use magic.” 

“Relax,” said Dean. “You guys found me before I turned into a popsicle. I’m ok. Just needed—” His voice trailed off and he finally realized he was sitting in a motel bathtub in jeans and a t-shirt. “I needed a bath apparently.” 

He felt the angel behind him chuckle. “That is my fault,” she said. “I thought this was the fastest way to bring your temperature back up.” 

It was strange to hear Cas speaking through a different vessel, much less a female vessel. Suddenly Dean realized he’d grown accustomed to the deep growl of Castiel’s other body, his real body. A body Dean was still bound and determined to retrieve, but at the same time utterly grateful it was the only thing at stake. Castiel, himself, was safe. 

“Do you feel weak?” asked Eileen. She moved over to the tub and was now leaning over the edge beside Sam.

“Nah,” answered Dean. “Still a little chilly but the feeling is back in my feet so I figure I’m good.” He wiggled his toes beneath the warm water. Dean felt Castiel’s breath against his neck as he sighed and warmth instantly flowed through his body. Cas had not relaxed his grip on Dean’s chest and Dean had not released Cas’s hand from beneath his own. 

Sam shot him a knowing look and Dean just grinned, too relieved to be embarrassed or ashamed. 


	12. Not a chapter...just art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is going up tomorrow...took a break to work on some art for Fem!Cas


	13. Let my love open the door

They returned to the bunker exhausted. Dean let Sam drive the whole way home while he sat in the back of the Impala with Juliane. He was careful not to let on that he knew who she really was. He wondered if maybe Cas had forgotten himself after escaping Lucifer. About an hour into the return drive home, he decided he didn’t care. He’d let Cas keep his secrets. He realized Cas might not want him to know. He realized Cas might only have returned because he knew he would be safe with the brothers; because it was the closest thing to a family he had left. He understood now, that what he thought was Juliane flirting, was just Cas being Cas. The angel had always been too kind to Dean, too understanding, too willing to offer his undivided attention even when Dean didn’t deserve it. That was just in Castiel’s nature. It wasn’t anything Dean-specific.

Dean realized, after he’d been so cruel before Cas left, their bond could be broken. He realized Cas might never confide in him again. Hell, for all he knew, Cas already told Sam and Eileen who he was, bypassing Dean completely. He deserved to be left in the dark after the way he treated his best friend. He’d make it up to Cas. He could fix this. He had to.

The four of them sat together at the table. They arrived back at the bunker late that night. After a few beers, Sam yawned and started a chain reaction around the table and everyone agreed it was time to sleep. 

Sam was the first to turn in, followed quickly by Eileen. Cas, now also experiencing the human need to sleep, stood to leave. 

“Hey C-er-Jules,” said Dean, that name was going to be a problem, “you wanna do something later?” 

He frowned. “Another hunt?” he asked. “Dean, you are exhausted and you almost died. I don’t think—” 

“Not a hunt,” said Dean. “Like for fun. Just something—I don’t know—something fun.” He was terrible at this. 

Cas examined Dean, clearly confused. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, all nerves and self-consciousness. “I guess I mean like a just the two of us kind of thing.” 

Cas’ eyes widened. 

 _Idiot,_ he thought. _He doesn’t want to go out with you after the way you’ve treated him._  

“I, um,” began Cas. 

Dean cut him off before Cas had to think of a nice way to reject the offer. “Never mind,” he said. “We’re all tired, you’re right. We should just take it easy for a while.” 

“No,” said Cas quickly. “I’d like to do something fun—just the two of us—I’d much prefer that to another hunt.” He took a step toward Dean, appeared to change his mind, and took a step back. 

“Yeah?” asked Dean. They were off to a rocky start but holy shit, at least they were moving forward and Dean hadn’t screwed anything up yet. 

“Yes,” Cas confirmed. He was blushing. 

Dean wanted to move closer, to touch him, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “How about tomorrow?” 

Castiel nodded. “I would like that.”

“We could see a movie or get dinner or something—just the two of us.” _Date, you idiot. There is a word for this._ Dean wasn’t ready to say that word yet. It had too many connotations and too many risks. 

“I’ve nev—I haven’t seen a movie in quite a while,” said Cas. 

Dean knew Cas had probably never been to a movie theater. He’d probably enjoy that. He knew Cas liked doing new human things. “We’ll do both,” said Dean. “Movie, dinner, whatever—it will be fun.” 

Cas smiled and he continued to blush. “I look forward it.” 

“Good,” said Dean. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Yes. Good night, Dean.” 

“Good night Jules.” He watched Cas walk away then scrambled for his laptop. He found a theater showing a new superhero flick and a descent-looking restaurant, both about an hour away. They could leave at 4:00 p.m. and catch the 5:30 p.m. showing then grab dinner afterwards. He let out a breath, bracing himself for tomorrow. As soon as Sam figured out what they were doing, he’d never let Dean hear the end of it.

 

xxx

 

Castiel awoke early the next morning. He’d barely slept, simultaneously too nervous and excited for the coming day, but he wasn’t tired. 

He crept from his quarters and down the hall to where Sam and Eileen shared a room. Sam was usually the first one up in the mornings. Castiel hoped to catch Eileen alone. 

Their door was slightly ajar and Castile approached slowly and peered inside. He was in luck. Eileen sat on the edge of the bed alone, still in her pajamas. He pushed the door open slowly, giving her a chance to notice him. When she looked up, she smiled and beckoned him into the room. 

“Good morning.” She was signing instead of speaking, which Castiel preferred. 

“Good morning,” answered Castiel. “I need your help with something, if you are not busy.” 

“What’s up?” she asked. 

Castiel sighed. He felt a warm sensation rise in his cheeks and he knew he must be blushing again, a physical echo of what he was feeling. The human body was a treacherous thing. “I believe I am going on a date,” he answered. 

Eileen grinned, an expression of glee lighting up her face. “Is it Dean? God, finally. I thought you two were just going to keep making weird faces at each other. You know, when I told you not to stare, I didn’t realize he did it too. I thought it was just a _you_ thing. But the more I watch you two, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It’s like your own language. It’s cute.” 

Castiel frowned, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you?” 

“Tell me the details. When, where, what are you going to do?” 

“Today,” answered Castiel. “We are going to a movie theater, then we are going to eat dinner. I do not know the exact time or location.” 

Eileen rolled her eyes. “Well at least Dean has a plan. Honestly I’m shocked he’s not dragging you out to a bar to play pool.” 

Castiel wished they were going to a bar to play pool. At least he had some experience with that. He had no idea what to expect now. “That is actually why I wanted to speak with you,” Castiel responded. “I’m not—I have not—I do not date frequently.” That was close enough to the truth.  

“You’ll be fine,” answered Eileen. “You’ve spent time with Dean alone before this, haven’t you?” 

Castiel nodded. 

“It will be the same. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself and just act natural. Besides,” she added, “he’s probably just as nervous as you.” 

Castiel could not picture Dean being nervous about this and he knew Eileen was just saying it to make him feel better. “Is there a dress code?” asked Castiel. “I mean, I know huma—people tend to dress a certain way for these events. Is there something specific I should wear?” He’d dressed a male vessel for a date before, granted, that was with Dean’s help and it turned out not to be a date at all, but he had no experience dressing a female vessel. So far, he’d done his best to mimic Eileen’s style, which usually consisted of jeans and a t-shirt. 

Eileen shook her head, smiling. “When _was_ the last time you went on a date?” 

Castiel had no idea how to answer that question. 

“Never mind.” She took pity on him and continued. “You should wear what makes you comfortable. Dean is your friend. You don’t have to pretend to be anything for him.” 

Castiel nodded, frowning. Dating, in theory, sounded very easy, but something told him in practice, it was a bit more complex. 

“Would you like me to help you pick something out?” asked Eileen. 

“Yes please,” answered Castiel. He understood it was best to be yourself on a date, but he was already lying to Dean about who he was. He wasn’t sure how to be himself and uphold the lie at the same time. 

Eileen returned to his room with him and opened the small closet. She began pulling out articles of clothing. They went shopping together in the first week he was at the bunker. He used Lucifer’s attack as an excuse for not having any additional clothing. He’d told her everything he owned was in his car and it had been destroyed. That wasn’t entirely a lie. Everything he owned was in his car and his car could very likely have been destroyed by now. 

She’d helped him create a small wardrobe and he’d allowed her to make most of the selections. After all, she’d been female much longer than he and had more expertise in that area. 

“What about a dress?” asked Eileen. “I think we bought one, didn’t we?” She was pawing through his clothing. “Found it!” She turned to face him and held a short, pale yellow dress in front of her. “I have a pair of flats that will go really well with this.” 

“Flats?” asked Castiel. 

“Flat shoes,” she answered. “You can wear your boots with this if you want, but I think the flats will match better.” 

“Then I will wear flats,” he said. 

“What about your hair? I think you should wear it down.” 

Castiel had taken to wearing his vessel’s long hair pulled back in either a ponytail or braid. Eileen showed him both styles and he decided it was easier to manage that way. “Down?” he asked. “Do you mean unbraided?” 

She nodded. “Just let it free. You have pretty hair. I can fix it for you if you want help.” 

“Yes, please.” 

“And no makeup, right?” she asked. 

Castiel shook his head. He was not ready to add another aspect of maintenance to this vessel’s upkeep. Humans already had so much to contend with on a daily basis—bathing, brushing their teeth, combing their hair, changing their clothes—he couldn’t imagine how they had the energy or time to add more complex tasks to their routine.

“Ok,” she said. “Now we have a game plan.”

 

xxx

 

“You’re not taking her to a bar, right?” asked Sam. “You know that’s a shitty place for a date.” 

“It’s not a date, Sammy,” said Dean. “And no, I’m not taking her to a God damn bar.” 

“Dude, are you blushing?” Sam was standing next to Dean in the library. He leaned around to get a better look at Dean’s face. 

“Knock it off,” growled Dean. He was blushing like a damn teenager. 

“Where are you guys going?” asked Sam, undeterred by Dean’s dismissal.

“Movie then dinner,” he answered. He was more excited than he was letting on, but that was only because he was desperately trying to keep his nerves at bay. He didn’t want to think about it because this was more than a date. This was a second chance with Cas. 

“That’s a date,” said Sam, not bothering to conceal the smug look on his face.

Dean rolled his eyes. Conspicuously absent from his thoughts, was the ghost of John Winchester. Cas was still Cas and Dean’s feelings had not changed. But now, in a different body—a female body, the mental projection of his father seemed to have no complaints. Dean had thrown everything away because of Castiel’s body. It wasn’t even _his_ body. Angels were genderless. Cas just happened upon a vessel that could contain his angelic form and that vessel just happened to be male, and Dean just happened to be attracted to both men and women. But none of that mattered because above all, he loved Cas.

 _If you could see me now, Dad,_ he thought bitterly. _You’d probably disown me._  

He’d decided last night, no matter how their relationship progressed, he would not push for anything intimate until Cas was back in his own body. Dean had called him disgusting; made him feel disgusting. He had to undo that. Cas needed to know that Dean would not turn him away again, especially not over something as superficial as a vessel. 

It was easier to put everything in perspective now. He’d never let his bastard of a father come between him and the people he loved ever again. 

“How late are you staying out?” asked Sam. 

Dean shrugged. He hadn’t gotten that far. “Movie’s at 5:30, we’ll eat after that. I don’t know. I guess we’ll be home around midnight? Why do you care? Do I have a curfew?” 

“No, jerk, I was just making sure you had a plan. You’re not exactly great with romantic gestures.” 

“Well, _bitch_ , I do have a plan, or at least most of one.” 

“Why are you seeing the movie first? Shouldn’t you do dinner first?” 

 _Because Cas has never had popcorn at the movie and he might not want to fill up on dinner first,_ thought Dean. Instead of explaining, he shrugged. “That’s just what we decided.” 

“You should offer dinner first,” said Sam. 

“Who the hell made you Dr. Date?” asked Dean. 

Sam held up both hands in surrender. “Just trying to help,” he said.

Dean sighed and went back to digging through books on the library shelf. He wouldn’t be able to distract himself much longer.


	14. Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some rot-your-teeth-out fluff to make up for what comes next...

Dean waited outside next to the Impala. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and he was tired of Sam telling him to relax. 

 _It’s just dinner and a movie,_ he told himself. _You’re already living together, not like you’re making a big leap here._

His stomach flipped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything that could technically be considered a date. One-nighters, he’d had a ton, but this sit-down-and-talk-about-yourself crap was a whole other animal.

 

xxx

 

Castiel wished his dress were longer. The fabric hung just above his knees and he couldn’t stop trying to adjust it. 

Eileen stood behind him attempting to tame his hair with something that smelled or coconut and soap. Once she was satisfied, she spun him around and examined her work.

“Do I look presentable?” signed Castiel. 

Eileen nodded. “You look beautiful.” 

Castiel hoped this vessel would be more appealing to Dean. That certainly seemed to be the case so far. Angels had no real gender so Dean’s anatomical preferences made no difference to Castiel. Part of him missed his old body. It had become something familiar and comfortable, something that grounded him, something of earth that he could call his own. 

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. He loved Dean and if this form could allow Dean to love him in return, it was a change Castiel was willing to make. The only problem was, technically, Dean did not know Juliane and Castiel were the same. He’d tried to keep his behavior consistent, but for all he knew, once Dean found out the truth, he’d pull away again. 

Eileen waved a hand in front of his face. “You look like a kicked puppy,” she signed. 

“I…what?” asked Castiel. 

“Upset,” she clarified. “You look upset.” 

“I was lost in thought,” responded Castiel. “It is nothing of import.” 

“What were you thinking about?” she asked.

“Nothing of import,” repeated Castiel.

“Bullshit. We’ve shared a lot. What were you thinking? I don’t want you to be nervous.” 

She eyed him with such sincerity that Castiel found himself wanting to confide in her. How could he ever begin to explain what he was thinking? 

“Sometimes,” he began, “I worry Dean will not feel the same fondness towards me once he knows more about who I am.” That was close enough to the truth. 

“Then he doesn’t deserve you,” replied Eileen. “If he doesn’t know you or understand you by now, then he hasn’t been paying attention. And if he hasn’t been paying attention, then he’s not someone _you_ should be interested in.” 

Castiel frowned, confused. 

Eileen sighed and stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re wonderful,” she said softly. “If he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.” 

“If you knew me better, you wouldn’t say that,” whispered Castiel. He was not the monster some made him out to be, but he was not and never had been _wonderful._  

Eileen pulled back from him. “I’m a good judge of character.” Her hands flew rapidly through the air and Castiel almost couldn’t keep up with the conversation. “In just a few weeks I’ve seen you be humble, selfless, thoughtful, brave, giving, empathetic and kind. I admire and love you and if Dean has any sense at all, he feels the same. I know Sam agrees with me.” 

“Sam agrees?” asked Castiel. If Sam liked him, then that was a good indication that perhaps Dean felt the same. 

Eileen nodded emphatically. “Absolutely.” 

“But,” Castiel began. He stopped suddenly. If Dean knew he was posing as someone else, would he be as repulsed as he was that night in the kitchen?

Eileen was clearly waiting for him to finish his thought. When he didn’t, she took pity on him. “Don’t try to be what you think Dean wants,” she said. “Be who you are and just let the rest happen.” 

Castiel was suddenly terrified. He’d already tried that and it ended in failure. Perhaps this venture was doomed as well.

 

xxx

 

Dean drummed his fingers against the hood of the car as he waited. Finally, after too damn long, He heard the bunker door open and Castiel stumbled outside. Dean saw a hand vanish back into the bunker behind Castiel. Eileen must have shoved him outside. 

Castiel tugged at the hem of his yellow dress. It hung just above his knees, but Dean could tell by the way Cas kept smoothing it over, he thought it was too short. 

“You look,” Dean paused. “You look pretty.” _Pretty_ wasn’t exactly a word he’d use to describe Cas; it wasn’t strong enough.

“Thank you,” said Cas, color rising in his cheeks. “You also look pretty.” 

Dean laughed. His outfit was more hipster-douche than pretty. He was wearing jeans and a yellow button down shirt tucked into the waist. Sam refused to let him leave the house in flannel and then refused to let him leave in a t-shirt. Dean frowned as he looked at Cas again. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. 

“Is something wrong?” asked Cas. 

Dean sighed. “We match.” 

“Is that not customary?” asked the angel. 

Sam did it on purpose, no doubt about that. He was probably laughing at his own stupid joke right now. Dean debated running back inside and giving Sam a swift punch in the jaw, but the way Cas was looking at him kept him rooted to the spot. 

“I can change,” offered Castiel quickly. 

“No. We’re good,” said Dean. “Just get in the car.” They hadn’t even left the bunker and Dean’s mountain of insecurities was already becoming a problem. He rounded the Impala and got behind the wheel, realizing only too late he probably should have opened the door for Cas because _that_ actually was customary.

Beside him, Cas tried to smooth the dress over his legs. When that didn’t magically add length to the garment, he tugged at the little sweater/shrug thing around his shoulders and tried to wrap it further around him. 

“You cold?” asked Dean. He knew Cas wasn't cold.

Castiel shook his head. He settled one hand on the collar of the shrug and let the other rest on his thigh as though he was trying to hold the clothing in place.

Dean had an idea. “Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He got out of the car and went back into the bunker, trying to be a quiet as possible. He could hear people bumbling around in the library and hoped Sam and Eileen were preoccupied. He slipped past and grabbed a bag from his room. He shoved some clothes inside then went to Cas’ room and did the same. He returned to the care a few minutes later. 

“Here,” he said, tossing the bag to Cas. 

Castiel looked through the bag, eyebrows pulled together. He tilted his head to the side and looked back at Dean. “Why do we need these?” he asked. 

Dean shrugged. “Just in case,” he repeated. _Because you look uncomfortable,_ he thought, _and I am damn sure uncomfortable and I want this to go well because I have been such a fucking asshole; the last thing I want to ruin this night are our freaking outfits._ Why he couldn’t actually say any of that was beyond him. That was the truth. He should be able to say it to Cas. He opened his mouth and tried it again, but the words caught in his throat. 

Castiel let out a little sigh. “I admit I am not very familiar with hum—with dating ritu—with dating.” 

Dean thought back to the last time Cas had a “date” and he could tell by the look on the angel’s face, he was probably thinking the same thing. But then Dean’s stomach suddenly flipped again because Cas just described this as a date all on his own.

 _Be honest,_ he thought. _Just a little honest. You can do that. Do it for Cas._

Dean cleared his throat and cranked up the car. “I thought,” he began, as he pulled away from the bunker, “I thought—you seemed—I mean, you look really pretty and I like your—er—I like your dress.” This was a disaster. He could feel Castiel watching him. He knew he should make eye contact. He knew that would reassure Cas that nothing was wrong and he was happy with the way things were going, but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the road. _Use your fucking words, Winchester!_  

Dean took another breath and tried again. This time, the words tumbled out and he was helpless to stop them. “I got more clothes because you keep messing with your dress like you hate it, or you think it’s too short or something. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, but I get it, I’d feel weird in a dress too. I mean, I feel weird in this stupid shirt, but Sam picked it out and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I haven’t been on a goddamn date in forever. I don’t know. I just grabbed clothes because I thought we should both be comfortable because dates are supposed to be fun.” He managed to stop the verbal vomit there and snapped his mouth shut. 

Castiel was quiet. 

 _Shit._ Did he fuck it up already? He should have just shut up about the stupid shirt and their stupid matching and gone on without being a bitch about it. He was absolutely going to murder Sammy when they got home. 

“This is a date then?” asked Castiel, his voice soft and uncharacteristically timid. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “If you want it to be.” 

“I do.” 

“Good,” said Dean. “I do too.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Dean felt brave enough to inch his free hand closer to Cas’. Dean risked a glance just as Castiel reached out to grasp Dean’s hand in his own.

 

xxx

 

Dean had been staring at the road for the entire conversation, but once they both admitted the nature of their outing, he finally turned his attention to Castiel. 

It was just a quick look, but it was all the reassurance Castiel needed to know that Dean was nervous, but happy. Castiel saw Dean’s hand move slowly towards him and he met Dean half way across the seat and took hold of the hunter's hand. Eileen was right. Dean was nervous too. 

They stopped for gas and took the opportunity to change clothes. They agreed they’d change back before returning to the bunker to avoid any unnecessary interrogation from Sam and Eileen. Castiel was extremely grateful to escape from that flimsy yellow garment. He stepped out of the restroom and met Dean back at the Impala. 

Dean was scrubbing dirt from the windshield. He looked up, and when he saw Castiel, he laughed. It took the angel a moment to understand, but when Dean straightened up, he grinned as well. Dean had grabbed a handful of clothing for them to pick from back at the bunker. They’d both emerged from the gas station restrooms wearing jeans, black AC/DC t-shirts and boots. The only difference in their clothing choice was Dean’s flannel over-shirt.

"We match," said Castiel.

"Yeah we do," answered Dean, still smiling. 

“Is this acceptable?” asked Castiel. 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” answered Dean. 

“I’m happy,” said Castiel. 

“Good. Let’s hit the road.” 

They returned to the car and resumed their trip. They were 45 minutes away to the theater and would get there just in time to catch the 5 p.m. show. Castiel did not know they would never arrive.


	15. Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name

Dean ignored the storm clouds at first. He noticed them in the distance when they left the bunker but decided the clouds were too far off for the weather to impact their outing. But now, as he and Cas headed farther away from Lebanon, the clouds grew darker and seemed to be closing in above them. Now they had his attention. He didn’t flinch when lightening struck the ground several times in a row not more than a mile ahead. He didn’t flinch when the thunder roared so ferociously it rattled the Impala’s windows. He wasn’t even surprised when the rain and hail began to fall. His little broken family had been comfortable for too long. The monster finally found them again. 

“It’s her,” breathed Cas. 

“Figures,” muttered Dean. He checked the road for traffic, then swerved onto the shoulder. The tires screeched as he spun the car around and gunned it in the opposite direction back to the bunker. 

“We cannot outrun her,” said Cas. “It’s likely she’s been following us for some time.” He nodded to the sky. “This is just for theatrical effect. She’s toying with us.” 

“Well I’m at least going to make her chase us,” growled Dean. He pressed the gas to the floor but noticed the Impala wasn’t going faster. 

“We’re slowing down,” said Cas. “She’s here.” 

Dean didn’t have time to respond. The car jerked to a violent halt and Dean was suddenly outside. He couldn’t tell if he’d been teleported or thrown through the windshield. All he could see was fog and gray, no Cas and no car. 

He stumbled around feeling for anything solid. “Cas?” he shouted. “Can you hear me? Are you ok?” 

“He can’t hear you.” 

Dean whirled around and saw Amara standing just a few feet behind him. He clenched his jaw and his fists balled unconsciously at his side. “You lay a finger on him and I’ll—” 

“No need for threats,” she said calmly. “I only wanted to pay you a visit. I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look for me after the angels tried to smite me.” 

Dean wasn’t surprised all the king’s horses and all the king’s men had failed to destroy God’s sister. The angels had given it a good shot, unleashing the wrath of Heaven upon her, but it was all too little too late. Here she stood, beautiful and completely strong. Dean struggled against the urge to approach her. 

“Speechless?” she asked. “That’s new for you.” She examined him, then raised a hand and Dean felt a tug in his chest. Before he could protest, he felt himself being pulled forward. Amara released him once he was within arm’s reach. 

“Where’s Cas?” growled Dean. 

“You humans really don’t have any sense of scale or priority, do you?” She waved her hand. “Don’t answer that. Clearly you don’t or you wouldn’t be so preoccupied with a damaged seraph when you had the complete and undivided attention of one of the greatest powers in existence standing right in front of you.” 

“I don’t know why you want me,” spat Dean, “but do whatever you’re going to do and leave Cas out of it.” 

“I don’t _want_ you, Dean,” she said. “I _need_ you. And you need me as well.” 

“Like Hell I do.” 

“Maybe not yet,” she said, “but soon.” With that, she waved her hand and was gone. 

Dean was left standing alone beside the highway. He spotted the Impala in the distance, intact, but no sign of Cas. He ran back to the car, hoping Cas would do the same.

 

xxx

 

The first thing Castiel noticed was how confined he felt. He was not alone in this vessel and his thoughts were not the only ones echoing through its mind. Castiel was trapped with Lucifer again. 

On some level, he knew the Darkness was burrowing into his mind and dredging up past memories and broadcasting them into the present. He knew he was not back in his old vessel. He knew he was not at his brother’s mercy. He knew Lucifer could not make him kill or maim or torture in the name of victory or vengeance. He knew all of this, but at the same time, it seemed so very real. 

“Coward.” A voice whispered over the sound of his memories. “You said ‘yes’ to him. You let him in, and then you ran away. I can’t say I’m surprised. Seraphs are not terribly reliable.” 

Castiel shook his head. He had not wanted to leave Lucifer. He didn’t mean to leave. He’d wanted to fight the Darkness. 

“Then why did you run?” asked the voice. 

“Amara,” muttered Castiel. 

“Good for you,” she said. “You figured it out. You may not be brave, but at least you’re clever. Though, to your credit, hiding from Lucifer in plain sight is rather bold.” 

“I’m not hiding.” 

She laughed, a menacing, hollow sound. “Of course not.” 

Castiel knew she was mocking him. 

“You are usually such a good little soldier. What happened?” she asked. “When did you lose your nerve?” 

Memories began flying through his mind and Castiel was helpless to stop them. Amara finally stopped on a conversation between him and Lucifer after they were banished from the bunker. 

_“They are not your family,” spat Lucifer._

_“We had a deal,” said Castiel._

_“I’ve altered the deal.”_

_“I agreed to help you destroy the Darkness,” said Castiel. “I will not let you hurt them.”_

_Lucifer made a disgusted sound. “You are pathetic. You would defend humanity with every last shred of your grace.”_

_“Absolutely.”_

_“Brother,” Lucifer’s voice softened as he said the word, “they don’t love you.”_

_Castiel said nothing._

_“I can hear your thoughts, you know. We are sharing a vessel and I am stronger. What’s yours is mine.”_

_Castiel could not help but try to push his thoughts further back._

_“They will keep you around as long as you can help them,” said Lucifer. “They will use you until your strength fails. They will call for you as long as you will listen. But once you lose your usefulness, they will abandon you.”_

_“Stop it,” whispered Castiel._

_“I don’t even have to prove it,” said Lucifer. “They’ve done it before.”_

_“There were extenuating circumstances,” said Castiel._

_“When you lost your grace?” asked Lucifer. “They left you to fend for yourself.”_

_“Dean’s priority was his brother’s safety. I put Sam at risk by staying with them”_

_“What about when Sam was trapped with me in Hell?” He grinned. “Back in the good ol’ days.”_

_“We were reunited after I saved Sam and—”_

_“I’m starting to see a pattern here,” said Lucifer. “How about you?”_

_Castiel did not answer._

_“Winchester one uses you to keep Winchester two safe. Once you’re all used up, they kick you to the curb.” He shook his head, disgust seeping into his expression. “And you just let them. That’s just—that’s really sick; even by my standards.”_

_“We are family,” said Castiel._

_Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “What was it Sam said that brought you back to the surface of this vessel?” He paused, pretending to think. “I was just about to redecorate the dining room with his guts and he begged for you to answer. Bless your heart, you did.” He snickered. “I hope the white knight display was worth what it did to your grace.”_

_“You would have killed them,” growled Castiel._

_“I wonder if they know what it costs you to help them,” mused Lucifer. “I mean, the way you drag yourself around, it’s not exactly a secret that you’re fading.”_

_“I haven’t told—”_

_“Please,” said Lucifer, rolling his eyes, “they could figure it out if they really wanted to. They’ve done the same for their other ‘family’ members.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s it, isn’t it? If they wanted to…”_

_“I will always help them,” whispered Castiel, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Lucifer._

_“I’m sure they know that,” said Lucifer. “They can say or do whatever they want to you because you will always help them like a mindless little guard dog.”_

_“Because we are family,” repeated Castiel. Before he could stop himself, the memory of Dean’s rejection flashed through his thoughts._

_“I saw that,” teased Lucifer. “And you know what else I saw?”_

_Castiel didn’t answer, didn’t want to give him ammunition._

_Lucifer didn’t need a prompt. “I saw how long it took them to figure out you weren’t you.” He laughed. “I mean, I’m really, truly terrible with impressions. I must admit, in my spare time I’ll practice my Gabriel, but you—I really wasn’t even trying to be convincing.”_

_Castiel closed his eyes, trying to block out his brother’s taunts. Expendable. He was expendable and even Lucifer could see it._

_“Honestly, in all my years of existence,” said Lucifer, “watching an angel beg to be a part of a human’s life has got to be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever witnessed. I mean, how do you even stand yourself?”_

_Castiel didn’t answer, couldn’t answer._

_“Don’t worry,” said Lucifer, suddenly becoming very serious. “I’ll make them pay. We’ll make them pay. No human should ever be able to make an angel do his bidding. We will rip them apart.”_

_“No,” shouted Castiel, horror quickly replacing humiliation._

_“Yes,” said Lucifer. “And now that I know what makes you tick, it’ll be easier to keep you from rising to the surface again. We’ll tear them apart, piece by piece and maybe then, you’ll understand what it’s like to be free.”_

Amara pulled him out of his memories and back into the present. They were standing in a dense fog and Dean was nowhere in sight. 

“And then you ran,” she whispered. 

“I couldn’t let Lucifer destroy them and I won’t let you destroy them either,” said Castiel. 

“Really?” She laughed. “It looks to me, like you’re here playing dress-up trying to prove to yourself that Lucifer was wrong.” She shook her head. “All this just to make yourself feel better.” 

“He was going to kill them,” said Castiel. 

“He’s _still_ going to kill them,” said Amara, stepping closer. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m going to let him.” 

At that, something snapped in Castiel and he lunged forward, graceless and angry. He didn’t even make contact before Amara lifted him into the air and threw him violently back to the ground. 

Castiel landed in a heap, but he was too furious to stay down. He pushed himself up, one hand clutching the grace around his neck. 

Amara waved her hand again and Castiel’s arms were pinned to his sides. She made a gentle thrusting motion with her palm and Castiel flew backwards, landing flat on his back, his head smacking hard against the earth. 

She walked over to him and crouched beside his head. “My brother really broke the mold when he made you,” she said. She snapped her fingers and disappeared. 

The fog vanished along with her and Castiel found himself lying in the grass. He was vaguely aware of the sound of someone shouting his name, or at least something that sounded like his name. He lifted a hand and touched the back of his head. He pulled his hand back and examined the blood coating his fingertips. His ears were ringing, but he was fairly certain someone was approaching. It took him a moment to process was the person was saying. 

“You ok?”

Castiel blinked and saw Dean hovering over him, panic twisting his face. 

“I’m all right,” answered Castiel. 

“What hurts?” asked Dean. He began lightly prodding Castiel’s body, apparently searching for broken bones. 

“Just my head,” answered Castiel. 

Dean cupped one hand to the side of Castiel’s face and used the other to gently turn his head to the side. Dean’s fingers traced the outline of a knot forming at the back his skull. 

“Ok,” said Dean, nodding to himself. “Let’s get you home.” He directed one of Castiel’s arms around his neck, then Dean lifted him and carried him back to the Impala. 

Castiel did not mean to fall asleep once he was in the car. He did not want to lose consciousness right now. He didn’t want to be alone in his mind with Amara and Lucifer’s words. He didn’t want to think about all the times he was allowed to stay with the brothers because he was useful, only to be ignored after serving his purpose. 

He’d known he was being selfish when he tricked the brothers into believe he was a woman named Juliane. He’d known it was a stupid, juvenile thing to do. He’d even known he was doing it to prove Lucifer wrong because if this worked, and Dean gave him a second chance, then that would mean Castiel had not spent the last six years under the delusion that he’d finally found a place he could belong.

Castiel did not mean to fall asleep and dream about the lies he’d told to get this far, but he did. He did not wake up until Dean gently shook him back to consciousness outside of the bunker. 

Dean asked Castiel to stand just long enough to lift him into his arms again and carry him inside. He heard Sam say something, startled, and he heard Dean’s growl of a reply. He felt himself being tucked into bed. Then, minutes, maybe hours later, he felt the bed sink behind him and felt something warm press against his body. He turned to it and wrapped himself around the heat.

 

xxx

 

Dean carried Cas back into the bunker, shouting for Sam as soon as they got inside. Sam came running out of the library with Eileen hot on his heels. Sam took one look at the body in Dean’s arms and rushed to retrieve the first aid kit.

Eileen grabbed washcloths and cleared off a place on the dining room table so Dean could lay Castiel down. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Amara,” answered Dean. “I don’t know what that bitch did to her though.”

Sam came running back into the room and began spreading out medical supplies. “Amara found you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “Apparently she just wanted to remind me that she’s still a goddamn pain in the ass.” 

“What about Jules?” asked Sam. 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. I just found her lying on the ground with her head cut open. I’m sure Amara attacked her, but I don’t know the details.” 

“Is she hurt anywhere else?” asked Eileen. 

“No,” answered Dean. “Or at least I don’t think so. She was conscious when I found her and she said it was just her head that hurt.” Dean eyed the black cord hanging around Castiel’s neck and followed it down to the little lump beneath his shirt collar. Now would be a great fucking time for some angel mojo. He tilted Cas’ head to one side and parted his hair around the wound. It didn’t look bad enough to need stitches, but from the looks of the knot forming, he was going to have one Hell of a headache in the morning. 

Sam and Eileen helped him clean Cas up, then Dean carried him to bed. Eileen opened the door to Castiel’s room for him. She helped him remove his shoes, socks and belt, then they tucked Cas into bed and made sure he was comfortable. Dean would be back to check on him in a few minutes. 

He pulled the door to, but didn’t shut it all the way incase Cas woke up and needed something. He and Eileen returned to the dining room and help Sam clean up the medical supplies. 

“We got too damn comfortable,” muttered Dean. 

“Dude, we’ve been working our asses off trying to find a solution,” said Sam. “And I don’t think we’ve ever been comfortable, much less too comfortable.” 

Something in in snapped. “We need to work harder because that sure as Hell can’t happen again,” shouted Dean, pointing to Cas’ room. 

“Ok,” said Sam, “take it easy.” 

“No, Sammy,” barked Dean. “I will not take it easy. Imagine that was Eileen in there. What if that psycho darkness bitch had you under some spell that made you a fucking useless douche whenever you were around her and what if when you finally snapped out of it, you found Eileen like that. After everything you two had been through together and you couldn’t protect her from this.” He could feel his heart pounding. He was shouting and he couldn’t stop himself. “After you’d been to Hell and back, after everything you’d seen together, after you’d already let her down so many fucking times before—after everything she’d done for you—and you can’t save her because you’re under some spell? Because you’re too much of a fucking bitch to snap the fuck out of it? You can’t protect her and you know you’d die for her if you could, but you can’t because you fucked up and—and everything is so fucked up—” His voice began to crack. “Sammy, I fucked up. I fucked everything up.” 

Dean collapsed in a chair at the table and slumped forward, hands covering his head. He knew he wasn’t making any sense, but it was all his fault and now Cas was graceless and the Darkness had apparently decided he was a target. Everyone he loved was a target because he _had_ to go and get the Mark of Cain burned into his arm. He _had_ to figure out a way to destroy it. He _had_ to ignore Cas and let him throw himself at Lucifer. He always ignored Cas. He felt nauseous and too warm. He jumped when someone put a hand on his shoulder. 

Eileen stood on one side of him and Sam stood on the other with one hand on his brother. 

“We’ll figure it out,” said Sam. “We always do.” He paused for a second, examining Dean. “And we’ll get him back.”

Dean let out a deep breath and pushed himself up, shrugging away from Sam. “I need to think,” he muttered. He left the other two without explanation and made his way back to Cas’ room. 

The angel was still asleep when Dean entered. He quietly pulled the door closed and approached the bed. He hesitated; then decided fuck it, and lay down on the other side of the bed next to Cas. 

Apparently sensing movement, Cas rolled over and curled closer. Dean tucked an arm under beneath Castiel, allowing his head to be pillowed on Dean’s chest. Castiel wrapped an arm over Dean’s chest and let out a soft sigh. Dean leaned down and kissed top of Castiel’s head.

“I’m so sorry Cas,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ve got a long way to go to make things right, but I’m going to fix this if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Castiel’s hand tightened, clutching at the fabric of Dean’s shirt. Dean felt the rise and fall of Castiel’s chest against his body and for the first time in a long time, allowed himself to relax.

 

xxx

 

The smell of coffee was the first thing Castiel noticed. Something warm beneath his cheek came next, followed by the slow acceptance of an intense headache, followed by complete and total shock. 

His head was tucked against Dean’s chest and they were lying wrapped in each other’s arms. Castiel could hear the steady rhythm of Dean’s heart and his slow, even breaths. Waking up to this eased the sting of yesterday’s attack and Castiel found it easier to forget. Then again, everything felt easier when he was with Dean. 

He slowly craned his neck upwards to get a better look at Dean’s face and was surprised to find two bright green eyes staring back at him. 

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” said Dean. “How’s your head.” 

“Much improved,” answered Castiel. Aside from the headache, he was no longer dizzy or drowsy. The human body was a remarkably fragile, yet resilient thing.

Dean smoothed a hand over Castiel’s cheek, gently playing with the tendrils of hair that fell around his face. “Good,” he said. 

Castiel watched him, content but confused. “Dean,” he said, “if it’s not an impertinent question, what are you doing here?” He felt Dean laugh against his body and a sudden warmth spread through him. 

“That’s a totally valid question,” said Dean. “I don’t really have a good answer.” 

“I suppose you don’t really need one,” said Castiel, curling himself tighter around the hunter’s body. 

“Is this—ah—is this ok?” asked Dean. “I mean, I can leave. I should have asked. I just—I got worried about you being in her alone so I sat down on the bed and you kinda rolled towards me and—well then this happened and I kinda went with it.” 

Castiel chuckled. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

Their pleasant moment was interrupted a few minutes later by someone tapping on the door. Dean groaned and moved to untangle himself, though Castiel was reluctant to let him leave. 

Dean opened the door and Castiel could see Sam standing in the hall, eyes puffy and hair askew as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He had two mugs of coffee in his hand and the passed them both to Dean, grinning from ear to ear. 

“What’s up with you?” asked Dean. 

“Chuck,” answered Sam. 

“Chuck?” 

Sam nodded eagerly. “He’s a prophet. I don’t know why we haven’t asked him before. He’s bound to know something.” 

“Do we even know where the Hell he is?” 

“Yes,” said Sam. “Eileen found him. He’s making an appearance at freaking convention tomorrow night.”

At that, Castiel pushed himself upright. “Where?” he asked.

“Austin, Texas,” answered Sam.

“All right,” said Dean. He returned to Castiel and offered him a cup of coffee. “You feeling up for another road trip?” 

“I am,” answered Castiel.


	16. Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different...it's told from Chuck's POV and it's pretty plotty...I'm halfway through the next chapter and it should be ready to go tomorrow.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, you can find more on my website: https://captainlilybob.com/

Humans were mesmerizing creatures. They’d evolved to become so much more than anyone expected. The whole world had evolved, surpassing and surprising those who were old enough to remember its conception. Everything about this realm was special, but humans in particular, were one of the most intriguing aspects. They had the capacity to feel, to change, to break and still survive. 

Chuck loved humanity, but he loved his sister more. He could not fight to save one without betraying the other and he could not bring himself to end the Darkness once and for all. 

Amara was not always so acidic. If he was honest with himself, it was his fault she was wreaking havoc on creation at the moment. She was well within her right to challenge him after he locked her away so long ago. 

Chuck and Amara were not the only gods. At one point, there were many. They were creatures of energy, life giving and eternal. Gods did not die, but they could fade, their essence slowly draining away as they became absorbed by their designs. Eventually, they would be reformed and their substance repurposed to begin a new cycle of creation. Chuck’s powers began to fade eons ago, long before the molten surface of the earth cooled. He knew the creation of this universe would be his swan song. He knew it would feed off of him and he knew he would drift into the void happy and proud. But he never expected Amara to have such an angry, visceral reaction. 

She enjoyed the creations of other gods and she appreciated the way Chuck had poured himself into his work, but she did not approve of the implied sacrifice. Chuck created the angels to protect the life that began to blossom in his universe, another drain on his energy, but he quickly discovered he could not watch over everything and protect his world from Amara at the same time. 

She wanted him to stay with her. He understood. But this was something bigger than both of them. With a simple breath, he’d created a place that could adapt and make its own rules; a place born of his energy, but not dependent upon it. This realm was nothing short of a miracle and he was proud that it had survived for so long. 

If he’d been stronger, he would have destroyed Amara before the first war. If he’d been less selfish, he would have been better prepared for her inevitable revenge. 

In the beginning, he created Lucifer and into him, Chuck poured his pride and fierce loyalty. Lucifer would be the champion of the other angels, their leader when Chuck could not be with them. 

Into Michael, he poured his dedication to this new and fragile world. Life needed someone to watch over it, a warrior to keep it safe. 

Into Gabriel, he poured his wit and intuition. In retrospect, he should have known that would eventually backfire. Gabriel was there to help the angels evolve along with the life they guarded. Gabriel was the thinker, the plotter, and the innovator. 

Into Naomi, he poured his strength and devotion to Heaven. Should all else fail, Naomi would survive and rebuild. She was a fighter and a failsafe. 

He created many angels this way, building them from different aspects of his own energy and emotions and giving them purpose. He hoped one day when the world was safe he could release them. Maybe one day, they would be able to control their own existence. He knew the transition would be difficult for them, having no frame of reference for freewill. He knew they would need an example and he knew they would not look to humanity to lead the way. 

After the first war against his sister, after his feelings for her betrayed him, after he let Lucifer and the other angels do what he could not, after he saw how willing they were to obey the will of their god, Chuck began planning for their future without him. 

He needed someone who could lead the angels and marry them to creation. He’d hoped it would be Lucifer, but it quickly became apparent the archangel had no intention of sacrificing himself for humanity. He would protect his brothers and sisters, but he would never martyr himself for creation. Chuck fought with Lucifer many times over the issue before he realized Lucifer also carried a bit of Amara. Into Lucifer, Chuck had also poured his admiration of the Darkness. 

He could not force Lucifer to become something he was not and he could not bear to destroy the angel. Chuck knew destruction was his weakness. He’d never been good at taking life away and when death occurred naturally within his realm, he had to force himself not to intervene. This place needed to retain its independence if it was to survive without him. 

Not long after Amara was imprisoned, he created another angel. Into this one, he poured forgiveness, love, loyalty, strength and compassion. He made sure to bond this angel to Gabriel because it would need an ally and Gabriel needed to learn to care for something other than himself. Chuck hesitated for just a moment during the final steps of the angel’s birth. He wanted to imbue it with love of humanity. He wanted to make it love and respect creation as he did. He wanted to build it in his image as he’d done with all the other angels, but something stopped him. 

This angel needed to be different. This would be the angel who would teach the others to exist when Chuck was gone. He’d seen the way the others struggled against their mission. He’d seen they way it tore at them when they tried to change. 

This angel would not suffer the same. This would be the angel with freewill. As Chuck breathed life into one of his last creations, he left it without a purpose, without a calling or mission. 

He named the angel Castiel and as he watched the being take form, he told himself this was for the best. He told himself Castiel would grow to be strong. Castiel would evolve with humanity. Castiel would find his purpose and teach others to do the same, but a small part of him worried the angel would feel useless compared to his brothers and sisters. He hoped Castiel would find happiness and that he had not just condemned the angel to an eternity of searching for a reason to exist.

 

xxx

 

Chuck heard the Impala in the parking lot long before anyone knocked on the door to his hotel. He did his best to look surprised when the Winchesters and their companions stood in the doorway. He invited them in, taking a quick assessment of his company ask they passed. 

Sam was healing and his soul was radiant with love for Eileen and his little broken family. He had scars Chuck knew would never fully disappear, but Sam had hope. At least his life had not robbed him of the ability believe things could be better. Chuck exhaled, relived. 

Eileen was not someone he’d had the opportunity to meet in person, but her soul was bright and pure. She was kind and strong and perfect for Sam. She too, had hope. Their souls seemed to vibrate at the same frequency and Chuck knew they were able to comfort one another despite their pasts. 

Dean was also healing, but the oldest Winchester was cracked and broken and his wounds were still fresh. He was resilient. He could recover, but he had to want it. Dean did not have the same hope Chuck detected in Sam. He frowned before turning his attention to the last member of the party. 

Castiel was distant and he’d changed his vessel after sacrificing his other body to Lucifer. He was damaged and something in him ached. Chuck took a risk, and went deeper until he could hear the whisper of Castiel’s most private thoughts.

_I should not be here. I am not an angel. I will never be welcomed into Heaven. If I die, I will not go to Hell. I do not deserve to walk on Earth if I cannot help. The brothers do not need me in this form. I cannot protect them. Dean does not love me as I love him. Once I am revealed in this vessel, I will never regain his trust. I am a liar. I am selfish. I am useless. I am disgusting. When I die, I will go back to Purgatory with the other monsters. I do not belong anywhere else._

Chuck grabbed the angel as he passed and pulled him into an embrace. He spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. “It’s nice to finally meet you Juliane.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Castiel. I promise things will get better.” 

The angel tensed in his arms. They believed Chuck was a prophet. It wasn’t strange for him to know their secrets. He could let some truth slip without too much risk. 

“Thank you,” murmured Castiel. 

Behind them, Dean cleared his throat. “How much of this crap do you know and how much do we need to tell you?” 

Chuck turned and stood beside his angel and he saw Dean’s eyes flicker between the two. Chuck nodded to himself. Dean knew the truth. Good for him. 

“I’ve been keeping up,” answered Chuck. “The Darkness is running around and you guys are banking on Lucifer to destroy her. That’s it in a nutshell, right?” 

Sam nodded. “Basically, yeah.”

Eileen wasn’t watching them. She was taking in the surroundings of Chuck’s room. He watched her take note of papers and books and journals. She was studying him. 

“We need something God touched,” said Dean. “Well, preferably two things God touched. One, we give to Lucifer so he can smite the Darkness, and the other we keep to smite Lucifer.” 

“That’s not the plan,” said Sam, shooting his brother a puzzled look. 

Dean shrugged. “If Chuck knows where we can find a couple of these almighty boomsticks, I figured we should stock up.” 

“I don’t think a Hand of God is going to do what you think it will,” said Chuck. 

Dean sighed. He’d been prepared for disappointment. 

“Amara is God’s sister,” said Chuck. “She is the same in essence. An artifact like that probably won’t do anything to her.” 

“Fuck,” muttered Dean. 

“If that won’t stop her, what will?” asked Sam. 

Eileen was watching Chuck carefully now. Her chin was raised and her eyebrows knitted together. She was also looking between him and Castiel. She didn’t trust him. 

“I don’t know,” answered Chuck. He hated being deliberately unhelpful, but he need to speak with Castiel alone. “You guys could have called ahead, you know. I could have told you all of this over the phone. Saved you the drive.” 

“We don’t have your number,” said Sam. “You changed it.” 

“Oh, shit,” said Chuck, feigning ignorance. “Did I?” 

“What the Hell kinda prophet are you?” snapped Dean. “You gotta know how this ends. Don’t hold back spoilers on our account. If we can’t fix this, then you’re gonna burn like the rest of us. You know that, right?” 

“Dean,” said Castiel softly, “I believe what the prophet Chuck is trying to say is he _cannot_ help us, not that he _will not_ help us.” 

“Yeah,” said Chuck. “I’ve only seen up to where you guys brought Juliane back to your bunker.” 

“Well fuck me,” said Dean, throwing his hands in the air. “Glad we stopped by. Nice catching up with you.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.” He started towards the door, but Sam stopped him. 

With one hand on his brother’s shoulder, he mouthed something to Eileen who nodded. Eileen then turned to Chuck. 

“Could we induce a vision?” she asked. 

Chuck shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“I should clarify,” she said. “Sam and I may have found a way to induce a vision. Can we try it on you?” 

“What, like a spell?” asked Chuck. 

She nodded. 

“No,” said Chuck. 

“Yes,” exclaimed Dean. He jabbed a finger towards Chuck. “You don’t get to say no. We’re trying to save the world.” He turned to the others. “Good job you two. Can’t believe you were holding out on me.” 

Castiel put a hand on Chuck’s arm. “They will not hurt you,” he whispered. “I will oversee the spell.” 

Chuck’s heart broke for the angel. He was a protector. Even now, with nothing left to give, Castiel would do whatever he could to shelter those in need. Chuck knew the next step. He knew how to defeat his sister. He knew he could not be the one to do it. They would need to use his power and bind it with the essence of creation. 

Amara was probably already aware. That was probably why she’d tried to bind herself to Dean. He was meant to be her shield when the time came. She was expecting Chuck to face her. 

He couldn’t risk doing it himself. He couldn’t risk his love for her getting in the way again. She had to be destroyed. He had to let it happen. For his plan to work, he needed Castiel. 

“We’ve got the ingredients in the car,” said Sam. 

“Sammy, you’re a freaking genius,” said Dean. “Let’s grab it and get this party started.” He glared at Chuck. “Don’t run off. We’ll be right back.” 

“I will watch him,” volunteered Castiel. 

Dean nodded. “Good.” 

The three left the room and hurried to collect their supplies from the Impala. Chuck didn’t have much time. He grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and turned the angel to face him. 

“The amulet,” he said. “Let me see it.” 

Castiel pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt. “You know what must be done?” he asked. 

Chuck gripped the amulet and the vial containing Castiel’s grace in his hand. He held them tight for a moment to complete the bond. “You have a choice to make,” said Chuck. His voice shook as he spoke. “If you deliver this amulet to Lucifer, he will use it to destroy Amara. He may need your help, but the two of you should be able to figure out how to trigger it and use the power to kill her.” 

“This is a Hand of God?” asked Castiel. 

“Something like that,” answered Chuck. 

“Will he succeed?” asked Castiel. 

Chuck nodded. “But you won’t survive.” 

“I’ll do it,” answered Castiel.

“You don’t have to,” said Chuck quickly. “This is your choice. You don’t have to do it. You can stay with your family—with Dean. I know you’re beginning to feel happiness and the last thing I want to do is take that from you.” 

“But if I do not bring this to Lucifer, how will we defeat Amara?” 

“We will find another way,” answered Chuck. It was a lie. There wasn’t another way. He’d used the last of his power to charge the amulet and mix it with grace. He could already feel the last of his energy slipping away. 

Castiel frowned. “I am willing,” he said. 

“It will kill you,” said Chuck. “You won’t survive.” He heard footsteps approaching. “Think about it before you agree,” whispered Chuck. 

The hunters returned to the hotel room with armfuls of ingredients and weapons. 

“You can never be too prepared,” said Dean, setting a silver knife on the bed. “You ready?” 

Chuck shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”


	17. Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

Dean sat back in a chair and watched Sam chant over Chuck’s unconscious form. They had to knock him out in order for the spell to work. Before Dean could ask how they were going to do that, Sam had pinned Chuck to the bed and Eileen had both hands wrapped around his neck. 

Chuck thrashed for a bit, but finally lost enough air to pass out. Dean had to restrain Castiel while it happened. Once it was over, Castiel sat on the edge of the bed to check Chuck’s pulse. The angel hadn’t left his side since. 

Dean folded his arms over his chest and let his eyes droop. He had no idea how long it took to make someone have a vision. 

He awoke with a start and instantly knew something was wrong. The room was dark and empty. He heard something crash in the bathroom and he hurried to investigate. He stopped short as he entered the room. It was a dream. He was having that same Goddamn dream again. _Snap out of it!_ he thought. 

Cas lay in the bathtub covered in blood. His eyes were open, but unmoving. Scorched into the floor beneath him, was the imprint of his wings. They stretched from his back, across the floor and up onto the walls, staining the room with charcoal and ash. 

Before Dean could react, he was falling. He felt the sting of Hell before he saw it. He struggled to force himself awake, but as the darkness ebbed and gave way to fire, something caught his eye. 

He was not alone this time. Cas was with him. They were lying together, unrestrained in Hell. Dean scrambled to his feet. 

“Cas!” he shouted. 

Castiel did not seem to register his presence. Dean knelt by the angel and scooped him up into his arms. With Castiel pressed tightly to his chest, he ran. He didn’t know where he was going or if they could escape, but he was damn sure going to try. 

“Dean!” A voice echoed through the dream and pulled him back to reality. He jerked awake and pushed himself up in his chair. His neck was stiff and the room spun slightly, but this was real. 

Cas was leaning over him, clearly concerned. Sam and Eileen were still standing over Chuck, but they were both watching Dean. 

“I’m good,” muttered Dean. “Just dozed off.”

“You were shouting,” said Cas. 

“Did you see…” began Sam. His eyes darted to Castiel, then back to Dean. “Did you see him?” 

Dean realized he must have called for Cas out loud. It wouldn’t be the first time. There was no point in denying it now. “I saw Cas,” he said. 

At the mention of his name, the angel straightened up. “The angel with Lucifer,” he said. “Your fri—a—he was your friend, correct?” He stumbled over his words. 

Dean made sure to look Castiel in the eyes as he nodded. “He is our friend. We’re gonna get him back.” 

From the bed, Chuck cleared his throat. “Damn guys,” he said, blinking slowly. He pushed himself up onto his side and rubbed his throat. “You know there are easier ways to knock a guy out.” 

“That was faster,” said Eileen. 

Chuck coughed again and Sam handed him a bottle of water. Sammy was always prepared. 

“I’m not sure if this helps or hurts,” Chuck began, “but I think Crowley’s dead.”

 

xxx

 

They stayed for a little while longer while Chuck debriefed them on his vision. Either Lucifer had already killed Crowley or he would do it soon. Dean didn’t give a damn one way or another. The only issue would be, after Crowley died and after they killed Lucifer, Hell would be leaderless. It would be chaos. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, it was one disaster at a time.

It wasn’t the vision Dean hoped it would be, but it was more information than they had before. Chuck promised to call them if he saw anything else. The prophet seemed a little pale after the spell. Dean felt guilty for pushing the guy, but it had to be done. 

Dean lingered in the room with Chuck as the others packed the car. “I need some advice,” said Dean. 

“About Castiel?” asked Chuck. 

_Son of a bitch._

“I heard you scream for him,” said Chuck. “How long has that been going on?” 

“Since he left,” answered Dean. He suddenly felt numb. He should have realized it before, but of course Chuck knew. He said he’d seen up to Juliane going to the bunker. Did that mean he knew Cas had a new vessel? He sighed. “How much do you know?” 

Chuck shrugged. “Probably more than you want me to know.” 

“So you know about our—why he—er—what happened before he left?” asked Dean. He was pushing it, but he needed to hear Chuck say it. He needed to know if the prophet understood. 

“He kissed you and you had a meltdown,” answered Chuck. “He left, humiliated, and you’ve been beating yourself up ever since. Which is probably why you’re so nice to Juliane, but Dean,” Chuck turned to face him as he said his name, “Castiel doesn’t know what you don’t tell him.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He couldn’t even look at Chuck. Hearing what happened, knowing Chuck saw him humiliate Cas; he couldn’t find the words. He stared at the ground instead of speaking. 

Chuck put a hand on his shoulder. “Your dreams are probably trying to tell you something.” 

“He dies,” muttered Dean, still watching the ground. “I can’t save him.”

“But you try to save him?” asked Chuck. 

Dean nodded. “Every time.” 

Chuck squeezed his shoulder. “Good. You’re going to need that persistence if you want to get him back.”

Dean finally looked up. “Get him back?”

“If I had to guess,” said Chuck slowly, “I’d say your dreams are trying to prepare you for something. Maybe someone is trying to send you a message.” 

“Damnit Chuck, if you know something you better tell me,” snapped Dean.

Chuck held up his hands. “Just a guess,” he said. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s visions. You should be prepared, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Prepared for what?” asked Dean, his heart was already pounding beneath his skin. 

“The worst,” answered Chuck. “Like you always are. And maybe tell him how you feel.”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to the ground.

“Look,” said the prophet, “you’re either having visions, or you’re so guilty it’s making you have nightmares. Either way, telling Castiel how you feel and that you’re sorry can’t hurt. He’s right there, just talk to him.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Chuck gesture to Juliane. “Do you know why he’s hiding from me?” asked Dean. 

“No,” answered Chuck, “and I’m not the one you should be asking.” He reached out to Dean again. “Look at me,” he said. 

Dean obeyed.

“Love is terrifying,” said Chuck, “but you were born brave for a reason.” 

As the prophet spoke, Dean felt a little surge of warmth spread through him, almost like grace. Before he had a chance to dwell on it, Sam called for him. 

“We’re ready to go,” said Sam. He raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Thanks for all your help packing the car.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’ve got to go,” he said.

“I’ll keep in touch,” said Chuck. 

“Thanks,” said Dean. He didn’t loiter. He patted Chuck on the shoulder and joined the others at the car.

 

xxx

 

Chuck’s words lay heavy with Castiel. They returned to the bunker after driving through the night. Dean didn’t stop and Castiel did not protest.

The prophet said it was his choice, but it wasn’t a choice at all. If this was the way to save the world, it must be done. He would deliver the amulet to Lucifer and together they would stop Amara and save creation—save his family. 

It was well into the afternoon of the next day when they pulled into the garage in Lebanon. Castiel wished the ride had lasted a little longer. He wished to listen to Sam and Dean bicker in the front seat for a few more hours. He wished for one more secret conversation with Eileen. He wished for one more day at the bunker. He tried not to let his disappointment show as he helped unpack the Impala. He tried not to let it impact his decision when Dean hovered by his side more than usual. He tried to live in these last few moments with his family, and not dwell on the fact that he planned to leave them in the morning. 

They ordered pizza for dinner. Castiel forced himself to have an appetite. He decided he was not sad or reluctant in the face of his mission. He was grateful he could help; happy he was useful again. He was not scared. He knew the pain he felt, the longing he felt for his family, would disappear once he was dead. 

Dean suggested they stay up and watch a movie. Sam and Eileen declined. Castiel was selfishly relieved when he and Dean were left alone on the couch.

“You ok?” asked Dean. He let his arm rest on the back of the couch, fingertips brushing Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” answered Castiel. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned into Dean’s side. The hunter did not pull away. Instead, he lowered his arm and pulled Castiel in closer, their bodies seeming to understand something that hadn’t been said. 

“You’ve been kinda quiet,” said Dean. 

“I have been thinking about the prophet,” answered Castiel.

Dean breathed deeply and Castiel felt his chest rise and fall. “Me too,” he said. 

“I am happy to be here,” said Castiel quietly. “You have made this place feel like home and I’m not sure I can thank you enough for that.” 

“You don’t have to thank us,” said Dean. “This is what family does.” 

Castiel smiled as Dean’s arm tightened around him. He’d spent his last night on Earth with Dean once before, many years ago. He let the memories engulf him as he curled closer into the hunter’s body. This was decidedly, an improvement. It was the last night he’d always wanted.

 

xxx

 

Dean watched Cas sleep for a while. He didn’t want to disturb him, but he needed to start working on his plan. Chuck was right. Cas didn’t know what Dean didn’t tell him. Dean was terrible with words, but he thought, maybe he could show Cas how he felt. 

He carefully unwrapped himself from the angel and quietly made his way to the dungeon. He began gathering the ingredients for the spell. Step one was summon the Devil. Step two was get Cas his body back. Step three was man up and apologize. Step four, he hoped, was forgiveness.


	18. Hello darkness, my old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't better yet...#sorryinadvance...I think I've got about six more chapters to go before I put an end to this fic.

Dean heard Sam shouting from upstairs and he checked his watch. It had taken him well into the morning to prepare the summoning ritual. He didn’t want to do this while Sam and Eileen were in the bunker. He’d have to find a way to distract them. 

Sam called for him again and Dean hurried upstairs. He didn’t want Sam to come looking for him and catch him in the middle of summoning the Devil. He followed his brother’s voice to the kitchen. 

Sam stood by the table with several sheets of paper in one hand, and something small clutched in the other. Eileen was with him. She was leaning over his arm reading something from the paper, a look of horror on her face. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Dean. 

“It’s Cas,” answered Sam. “I think—I’m sorry—this was for you.” He extended the papers to Dean. 

“You reading my mail again Sammy?” asked Dean. He meant to sound lighthearted. He wanted to change the expression on his little brother’s face. He couldn’t stand the way Sam was looking at him now. It was too intense, too mournful.

Dean tried to keep his hands steady as he accepted the paper. Cas left him a letter. Before he even started reading it, Dean knew he was too late.

*** 

_To Dean_

_From Castiel_

 

_Let me begin with an apology. I have been living at the bunker under false pretenses. I have manipulated you, Sam and Eileen and made you believe I was someone else._

_The woman called Juliane died not long after I inhabited her body. Why she said “yes” and let me in, I will never know. I am sorry for deceiving you all. I am sorry for making you believe I was someone else. I am sorry for betraying your trust. I was selfish and I allowed myself to indulge in a relationship with you. I lied to you again._

_I should not have let Lucifer possess me. I thought I was strong enough to help him and protect you at the same time. I failed. I managed to escape, but I now believe it was only because Lucifer allowed me to do so._

_I’m fairly certain he planned, or still plans, to use me to find you and your brother once the Darkness has been destroyed. I assure you I meant your family no harm. I’d planned to leave long before Lucifer became a direct threat. My time spent as Juliane was always meant to be temporary. I regret letting the charade continue for so long._

_My grace is significantly weakened. If Lucifer were to try and attack, there is little I could do to stop him. I’m afraid I cannot protect you and I do not want to be a liability. Please know Dean, that I would do anything within my power to keep you and your family safe. Raising you from Hell may have been my single greatest contribution to creation. I’m honored to have served with you._

_The purpose of this letter is to let you know I cannot help you as I have in the past, but after our visit with Chuck, I’ve found another way._

_Chuck gave me an item we believe Lucifer can use to destroy Amara. I’m not sure how he accomplished this, but most of my grace is now bound to the artifact. The remainder of my grace is in the vial on the table beside this letter. It isn’t much, but should you or your family find yourselves in need, it may be able to heal one more time._

_Because my grace is bound to the artifact, I intend to reunite with Lucifer to see that Amara is destroyed. I feel certain he will need my help to activate its power. Should something go wrong, and I am unable to return, please do not try to revive me. I believe those in the medical profession call this a “do not resuscitate clause.” I hope you will respect my wishes._

_My remaining grace is not enough to bring me back, but it will be enough to save a human. I hope you do not have to use it, but I understand a hunter’s life is full of peril and I know you like to be prepared. I’m happy to help you one last time._

_I know this does not begin to answer the many questions you must have. I’m so sorry to leave this way._

_It’s only fair I admit my cowardice and say I could not bear to say these things to you in person. I’ve wronged you in so many ways and I could not stand to see you hurt again. I know you must think I am a monster to deceive you this way. I have no defense for that. I was not always a monster, but over the years I’ve become something I do not recognize._

_I am so sorry I pushed you that night. I am sorry I made you uncomfortable. If I could take it back, I would. I was angry with you at first, but only because I was confused. I tried to go back and stop that night from happening the way it did, but my grace was not strong enough. Just know that I tried. I know what I did was wrong and I hate that I sacrificed our friendship to temptation._

_I hope this brings you some peace. Chuck seemed certain this would destroy Amara and I believe him. He has been a very reliable prophet. You should be safe after this._

_Hell will be in disarray and that chaos may spill over into the mortal world. I’m sorry to leave you with that mess, but I have faith in you and your brother. You have both conquered damnation many times before. Creation is in good hands._

_Please tell Eileen how much I appreciated our friendship._

_Tell Sam I am sorry and I care for him deeply._

_I still love you, Dean. Now and forever. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I hope this will help you understand._

_Yours,_

_Castiel_

_***_

He stood there for a while. He did not want to be so exposed, so vulnerable to the scrutiny of Eileen and Sam, but he couldn’t move. He just kept reading the last few lines over and over. This was his fault. 

He jumped when his brother put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?” asked Sam. 

“I fucked up, Sammy,” answered Dean. He frowned, then finally tore his eyes away from the letter. He folded the papers and shoved them into his pocket. “I’ve got to bring that idiot home.” 

Sam, God bless him, just nodded. “We’re ready when you are.” He extended his hand and revealed the vial Cas had been wearing around his neck. 

Dean took it and held it firmly in his fist. They were going to bring Cas home.

 

xxx

 

Castiel knelt in the center of the field and waited for Lucifer. He borrowed a car from the Winchesters, an old one Dean once described as a disgrace to the automotive industry. In addition to the note the left on the table, he also left a note on the hood of the Impala apologizing for taking the car. He was going tell the hunters where they could retrieve it, but that would lead them to the soon-to-be battlefield. The whole point of leaving was to keep them away. 

Behind him, a high, loud whistle caught his attention. Castiel did not need to turn around to know his prayers had been answered. Lucifer heard him. 

“You cleaned up nice,” said Lucifer. He slowly wandered into his brother’s line of vision.

“I much prefer your look,” said Castiel, eyeing Lucifer’s vessel. 

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “Oh my dad, was that a joke?” 

Castiel took a few deep breaths to focus himself. “I have what you need to destroy the Darkness.”

“Yeah, I got your message.” Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s it like? Praying, I mean.” 

“One-sided,” answered Castiel. 

Lucifer smirked and stepped closer. “Ok little bro, show me the goods. I know you didn’t bring me here just because you missed me.” 

Castiel opened his fist to reveal the amulet. “It’s bound to my grace,” he said. “I believe we will need to occupy the same vessel in order for it to work.” 

Lucifer held a hand out, palm facing forward to detect the power of the artifact. Once he was satisfied, he nodded. “My place, or yours?” 

“Your vessel is better suited for angelic possession,” answered Castiel. 

“You’re going to need some grace if you plan to leave that meatsuit,” said Lucifer. “Don’t go anywhere.” He snapped his fingers a disappeared. 

Castiel’s stomach lurched. He was sure there was a spell they could use to bind themselves together again. He should have expected Lucifer to be impatient. 

A moment later the archangel returned with a little vial of grace, waving one hand in front of his face, still trying to blow a way the remnants of the angel he killed to get it. He tossed it to Castiel. “Bottoms up,” he said. 

He caught the vial. “Who was this?” he asked. 

“Someone weaker than me,” answered Lucifer. 

Castiel said a silent apology to the angel who was unwittingly sacrificed to the cause. He opened the vial and shivered as the grace surged into his body. It recognized him as something angelic and swept through him looking for something to cling to; more grace so the two could merge. When it found nothing, Castiel felt it recoil and curl somewhere deep inside of him. It would be enough to carry him over to Lucifer, but once they were back in the same vessel, Lucifer’s grace would overpower and consume it.

Lucifer grinned. “Come on in,” he said. 

Castiel left his vessel and felt a strange sort of comfort as he poured back into his old body. This was where he belonged. This is where he would die.

“One more thing,” said Lucifer, eyeing the now limp figure on the ground before him. “If this is a trap, I’m going to find your little humans, and you’re going to help me gut them.”

 

xxx

 

By the time Dean pulled the Impala around to the front of the bunker, Sam and Eileen were already packed up and ready to go. They scrambled into the car and Sam let Eileen ride shotgun while he leaned in from the backseat to debrief. 

“Did you know Juliane was Cas?” asked Sam. "That's what the letter said, right? Cas has been here the whole time?"

Dean didn’t answer. He pushed the gas to the floor and sped away from the bunker. “Did you know?” he asked. 

“Of course not!” answered Sam. He looked at Eileen. “Did you?”

She shook her head then motioned to Sam. 

“She’s right,” he said. “You still haven’t answered.” 

Dean felt knot tighten in his stomach. “I knew.”

“And you didn't tell us?" asked Sam "Why not? Wait, but you and Jules were like—and if you knew she was Cas—I read the letter.” Sam was babbling, apparently no longer able to suppress his curiosity. “He said he still loved you, but doesn’t expect you to forgive him? What the Hell happened? Did you make him leave again?” 

“No!” shouted Dean. “I didn’t know he was going to leave. I thought I had more time.” 

“But you guys are a thing, right?” asked Sam. “I mean, that’s what I’m getting from all this. And, dire circumstances aside I gotta say, it’s about fucking time.” 

Eileen motioned to Sam again. Dean kept his eyes on the road. This was not the conversation he wanted to have right now.

Sam gasped. “Did you make him switch vessels to be with you?” 

“Damnit Sammy, shut up!” 

“This is a lot to take in,” said Sam. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to hook up for years, but I never thought it would happen like this.” 

Dean shot Sam a warning look. He was trying to concentrate. Cas was going to go back to Lucifer. Did that mean he could hear Dean's prayers again? _Cas, please answer me. There’s nothing to forgive. We are coming for you._  

“What was he apologizing for?” asked Sam. “He said he was sorry for pushing you, what happened? Did he make a move and freak you out? Did you act like a macho douchebag about it? Also when did that happen?” 

Dean swerved onto the side of the road and slammed on the breaks, making Sam lurch forward and choke on his next round of questions. Dean turned in his seat to face his little brother. 

“Cas is gonna die,” he spat. “Yes I freaked out. Yes, that’s why he went to Lucifer. Yes, it’s my fault. Of course I was a dick, when have I ever not been a dick? I will answer all of your stupid fucking questions once we get that featherbrain back to the bunker. Right now, shut up so I can pray to him. I don’t know where he went and finding him is priority number fucking one. Got it?” 

Sam sat back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and finally, mercifully silent. 

Dean rounded on Eileen. “That goes for you too,” he said. 

She nodded. 

Neither of them seemed to agree, but at least they didn’t argue. Dean shoved the Impala into drive and resumed the drive. He had no idea where to go and driving for too long in one direction could be taking him farther away from Cas. Could he pray to Lucifer? Other angels could hear him, why not Lucifer? He couldn’t risk that with Sam and Eileen in the car. He needed to ditch them. He should have considered that before he let them come with him. They were only a few miles from the bunker. There was a gas station not far ahead. He decided he would leave them there and they could walk back. He couldn’t let Sam be near Lucifer again and he didn’t think Eileen was ready for that kind of fight. 

“Gotta get gas,” mumbled Dean. He pulled into the station and got out of the car. He had half a tank. It was believable. When the other two didn’t get out, Dean opened Eileen’s door and started barking orders. “Get out and grab as much water, salt and lighter fluid as you can. Also grab some batteries and duct tape.” 

“Why?” asked Sam. 

“Got a plan,” he lied. “Don’t argue with me.” 

Sam grumbled under his breath, but he and Eileen both got out of the car. As soon as they were in the store, Dean returned the nozzle and closed the gas tank. He jumped back into the Impala just in time to see Sam running out of the store shouting. Apparently he figured out what was happening. Dean left them behind and didn’t look back.

 

xxx

It was six hours and two state lines before Dean made any kind of contact. He had about 30 angry messages from Sam, nothing from Cas and nothing from Lucifer. He was speeding down I-80 in Wyoming when the sky turned black and the rain began. 

She appeared in the middle of the highway and the other vehicles on the road swerved to avoid her. Dean sped up and took aim. As soon as he hit her, the road, the trees, the other people were all gone. They were on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Amara threw open the door to the Impala and drug Dean out by the collar of his jacket. She threw him down and he winced as his face hit the gravel. 

“What have you done?” demanded Amara.

Dean looked up at her. The storm had followed them and Amara loomed over him, her silhouette illuminated by flashes of lightening. When he did not answer he immediately, she shrieked, raised one arm and balled her hand into a fist.

Dean clutched his chest. Something was tearing at him from the inside, trying to claw its way out. 

Amara watched him writhe. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot and manic. She snarled and clenched her fist tighter. She looked nothing like the cold, indifferent creature she was before. She was angry; wrathful. 

“What do you want?” gasped Dean. He tried to push himself onto his knees, but the pain was too intense. He lay on his side in the mud, helpless and alone. 

Amara laughed, hysteric and devoid of humor. She lessened her grip and knelt next to Dean. “Justice,” she whispered. She grabbed Dean’s collar again and pulled him up so they stood face to face. “You killed my brother,” she said. “You forced my hand.” 

“I didn’t kill God,” croaked Dean. “I don’t even know where he is.” 

She lifted both hands to cup his face and pull him closer. “I felt him die,” she said. "Only a human would be savage enough to kill my brother to get to me, and of all of humanity, only a Winchester could do the deed."

"We didn't," said Dean.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "The blood may or may not be on your hands, but either way, creation killed my brother. You will be its first sacrifice."

Her lips parted and the pain in Dean’s chest became unbearable. It was as if his body was trying to break away from itself. Suddenly, he heard Amara’s voice echoing in his mind. 

 _You’re mine now._ Her words snaked through his brain, infecting his thoughts. _I need you in order to win and in a few moments, you will need me in order to survive. We are a perfect match._

Dean tried to fight back. He called on every incantation, sigil and spell he could remember, but Amara was too strong. Her laughter reverberated through his body. He heard one more thought before everything went black. _So it begins._


	19. I hear the voice of rage and ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys...but silver lining, it can't really get any worse than this...I think the story has finally hit rock bottom with nowhere to go but up (kinda...)

Dean couldn’t feel much. He was just tired. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, with flashes of awareness breaking through the haze. It was like life was suddenly reduced to a slideshow and the lag time between pictures was steadily increasing. He wasn’t sure what Amara did to him, but at least the pain was gone. He caught another glimpse of his surroundings and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

Amara’s back was to him. There were people around. Was he moving? He tried to make contact with the rest of his body. Yes, he was moving. He was following Amara. He was dimly aware of the screams echoing around him.

He heard a faint hiss coming from somewhere. There was a familiar voice speaking to him, trying to sooth him. 

 _Shhh,_ it whispered, _don’t fight. Just follow me._  

Dean bobbed his head, obedient and calm. Another scream rang out and he caught another glimpse of reality. Someone lunged at Amara. She continued forward, unfazed. Dean felt a sharp pain in his side, he gasped, and the sensation began to ebb away. 

 _You’re safe with me_ , said the voice. _As long was we are together, nothing can hurt us._

Dean nodded again. He was safe. Amara would protect him.

 

xxx

 

Castiel let Lucifer control his vessel. He didn’t have much of a choice. The archangel was stronger and too stubborn to accept help. He was surprised when the voice of another angel sounded in his mind. 

 _We have located Amara,_ said the angel. _She is attacking Jerusalem._

 _Good,_ said Lucifer. _Draw her away from the city and surround her._

 _She has a shield,_ said the angel. _If we attack, the Knight will defend her._

Castiel suddenly felt sick. _Who is the Knight?_ he asked. 

Lucifer’s laugh echoed through the vessel. _They can’t hear you,_ he said. 

 _Who is the Knight?_ Castiel demanded. 

Lucifer ignored him and resumed his conversation with the angel. _The Knight will not be a problem._

xxx

 

Dean followed Amara away from the screams. She was shouting now, but not at him. He saw a brief flash of white light, and for a second, he regained some of his senses. The first thing that hit him was the smell of burning flesh. The air was thick with it. The light around him was blinding. Something pushed him forward and he realized Amara was behind him. The next thing he felt was pain. It was a hot, searing, excruciating pain. He cried out, and the pain suddenly disappeared. 

 _It’s all right,_ cooed the voice. _They are trying to separate us. As long as you fight and we stay together, there won’t be any more pain._

 

xxx

 

Castiel saw Dean first, but he could feel Lucifer focusing on Amara. The angels were following Lucifer’s orders. They must have realized he was their best chance at destroying the Darkness. Castiel hoped they could destroy Lucifer as well, once this was over. 

The angels were attacking Amara, but she was easily fending them off. Castiel realized, to his horror, that Dean was throwing himself in front of the attacks. He was shielding Amara from Heaven’s wrath. 

Castiel felt a sudden explosion of energy, and regained control of his vessel long enough to call out to the hunter. 

Dean froze and looked directly at Castiel. He stopped fighting, then clutched a hand to his stomach and fell to his knees, screaming. Cuts and bruises appeared on his body and blood began soaking through his shirt. Castiel tried to go to him, but Lucifer held him back. Castiel was yanked from the surface of the vessel as the archangel regained control. 

 _We are not here for your human,_ snarled Lucifer. _Do that again and I will crush you._

 _You need me to stop Amara,_ snapped Castiel. _You can’t kill me yet._  

 _That’s a risk I’m willing to take._ Lucifer waited for Castiel to protest, when he did not, Lucifer continued. _We have to sever their bond. If we don’t, your stupid human will absorb the attack and I don’t know how many shots we get with your little trinket._

 _I can distract him,_ said Castiel. _You just saw me do it. Let me have control again and while he is distracted, you can separate them._

Lucifer thought for a moment. Castiel suddenly saw images flashing around him as Lucifer weighed the pros and cons of the plan. 

 _You will have to act quickly, but I believe it will work,_ said Castiel. 

He felt Lucifer’s grace needling into his own thoughts, searching for an ulterior motive behind Castiel’s plan. Castiel did not resist. He wanted to protect Dean, but that wasn’t a secret. Lucifer went deeper into his thoughts and Castiel’s plan unfurled itself before him. 

 _I will distract Dean. Lucifer will use his grace to sever Amara’s hold. Dean will no longer be her knight and will he be vulnerable. His injuries will reappear. I will need to heal him quickly. I will maintain control of the vessel long enough to heal Dean, then I will let Lucifer destroy the Darkness. We will probably both die in the process, but Dean will be safe._  

Again, Castiel heard Lucifer’s laughter. _And how exactly are you planning to heal Dean?_ he asked. _You can’t use my grace. Are you going to beg me to save your friend?_  

Castiel didn’t respond. 

 _I’ll let you take control. I’ll let you call for him. Once I sever their connection and kill Amara, I’ll even let you have a few more seconds with him. I’ll let you watch him die._  

 _We will both be dead by then,_ said Castiel weakly. _The Hand of God will kill us both._

 _That’s not what Chuck told you,_ said Lucifer. _I’ve read your thoughts. We both know you won’t survive this. You’re too weak. But I’m a man of my word. I’ll keep you alive long enough to say goodbye. Hell, I might even let you help me put him out of his misery._  

With that, Lucifer pushed Castiel to the forefront of the vessel. Castiel did not have time to worry about what came next.

Castiel threw his body forward and called out to Dean. He wrapped his arms around the hunter and pulled them both to the ground as Amara shot a deadly jolt of energy toward him. That was it. Lucifer pulled him back into the vessel's subconscious and lunged into action. He sent a wave of grace through Dean and, Castiel hoped, broke the bond with Amara.

For the first time, Castiel hoped to see the hunter injured. It would mean Dean was vulnerable again. It would mean Amara’s energy was not corrupting him. He didn’t get the chance to see. Lucifer’s focus was entirely on Amara. 

Lucifer grabbed the amulet and Castiel felt the grace within it call out to him. It was his grace and it recognized him. It wove itself into Lucifer, moving through him, searching for its angel. Castiel reached out to it and in a sudden surge of power, he and Lucifer were both in control. The amulet exploded in a blinding blue light, filling the vessel with power. 

Amara tore her attention from Dean, horrified. She realized too late what was about to happen. 

Castiel and Lucifer raised a hand and the power of the amulet burst from their palm. The remaining angels scattered as God’s energy hit Amara. She was illuminated from the inside, her eyes burning blue and orange, and she screamed. Castiel urged his grace to fight harder and he felt Lucifer do the same, aiding the amulet. 

Amara’s body became a blinding, fiery silhouette then, in a cloud of ash, she was gone. 

Lucifer wasted no time. He’d been weakened, but he still out-powered Castiel. He lunged for a nearby angel blade then rounded on Dean. 

Castiel finally got a look at the hunter. Dean lay in a crumpled heap in the dirt struggling to breathe. He was bloody and beaten, but his eyes were wide open and he was staring at Castiel. 

With the last of his strength, Castiel pushed forward and took back his vessel. He drove the angel blade into his stomach and sliced his body open. Lucifer screamed inside him as they fell to the ground.

 

xxx

 

Dean hit the ground hard. He felt something in his chest snap, like a rope that had been pulled too tight. Pain consumed him and it took all of his strength to stay conscious. 

Castiel, or Lucifer, stood over him, arm outstretched and body glowing. A beam of light exploded from the vessel and hit Amara hard in the chest. Dean shielded his eyes as she burned brighter and hotter with every second. She screamed, then was silent. 

Cautiously, Dean looked to where she was standing. Nothing remained. She was gone. A flash of movement caught his eye and he realized Castiel’s vessel had lunged for a fallen angel blade. The vessel turned sharply, weapon raised, eyes locked on Dean. Of course Lucifer wasn’t going to let him live. 

Then, just as suddenly, the vessel stopped and plunged the blade into its own stomach and collapsed. It screamed, and Dean smelled smoke. He pushed himself up onto his uninjured arm and saw something burned into the ground behind the body. Wings. One set. Castiel’s or Lucifer’s, he couldn’t tell. The blue glow was gone from the vessel and all that remained was blood. 

Dean clutched the vial hanging around his neck. Castiel said it wouldn’t be enough to save him, but Dean was damn sure going to try. But before he could drag himself forward, the body stirred. 

The vessel groaned and rolled onto one side. It looked toward Dean, blue eyes clouded with pain. 

“Cas?” choked Dean.

The vessel pushed itself to its knees and crawled forward. Dean didn’t try to get away. He needed to know. There was a chance Cas survived.

“Cas?” Dean repeated. 

The vessel didn’t answer. Blood dripped from the corner of its mouth. It reached Dean and with surprising strength, ripped the vial from his hands. It opened the top and the remainder of Castiel’s grace poured into the body. It took a ragged breath and lifted two fingers. The vessel locked eyes with Dean and he knew. 

“Don’t,” said Dean, pulling away. “You’re too weak.” 

Cas grabbed Dean with his other hand. Cas was going to heal him. He was going to use the last of his grace and heal Dean and Castiel would probably die in the process. Dean was desperate. He had to stop him.

"I'll heal," said Dean. "Save yourself, please!"

The angel was unmoved, too focused on the task at hand.

“Cas, don’t do this,” begged Dean. He wrapped his hand around Castiel's wrist. “Please, I need you.” 

Dean couldn’t hold him back. The angel touched his hand to Dean’s forehead and he felt that familiar warmth spread through him. The pain vanished from his body and he was healed.

Castiel collapsed beside him. Dean sat up and pulled the angel into his arms. 

“Cas?” His voice cracked as he said the name. “Please say something.” 

The angel looked up at him. “Dean,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”


	20. Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging at the end of the last chapter...so here's an extra long one!

_This goes out to anyone listening. I need help. Castiel needs help. If anyone’s got their ears on, please…I’ll make a deal. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything you want. You can have me instead. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, some fucking eternal void—I’ll go where ever you want. Please help him. Don’t let him die like this._

Dean had no idea if anyone could hear his prayers. Cas’ heart was still beating. He was still alive, if only for a little while longer. Dean prayed because he didn’t have a choice. He was alone. No Sam, no Eileen, no angels, no demons, no Impala. It was just him and Cas surrounded by rocks and sand. The sun burned and the air was still filled with the smell of ash and death. The earth around them was scarred with the imprints of angel wings, and fallen vessels baked in the desert heat. Everyone else left when Amara died. The world was silent except for the rasping, shallow breaths of the angel in his arms. 

“I’m going to get you out of this,” whispered Dean. “I’m going to get you home, just hold on a little longer.” He had no idea where they were. Nothing looked familiar. He couldn’t remember anything that happened after Amara took him. He had no phone, no resources. He’d checked the bodies around them, but found nothing that could help Cas. He scanned the horizon, but the heat blurred his vision. When the angel called for him, Dean had rushed over and lifted him from the dirt. That’s where they were now, just the two of them clinging together in the desert.

Castiel cracked his eyes open and looked up at Dean, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I deceived you,” he said quietly. 

“It’s ok Cas,” said Dean. He cradled the angel in one arm and held him close to his chest. He ran his other hand through Castiel’s hair and tried to wipe away the blood and sweat from his face. 

Castiel didn’t seem to register the touch. “I lied,” he said. “I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He coughed and blood trickled from his lips. 

“It’s ok,” said Dean. His eyes watered and his vision began to blur. He knew how this ended. The dream was always the same, but this wasn’t the dream. This was real and it was so much worse. “I knew it was you Cas, I’m sorry. I should have told you. I had no idea—” Again his words caught in his throat. He was sorry for so many things. He cupped the angel’s face in his hand and ran his thumb over Castiel’s cheek. They were both crying, lamenting things unsaid. 

Cas shook his head weakly. “I should have told you,” he said. “I was selfish. I wanted—I thought I could—I’m sorry.” 

“I knew,” repeated Dean. “Cas I knew it was you. I don’t care. I’m glad you came back.” 

Cas raised an arm and brushed his fingers against the hand cradling his face. For a moment, he seemed to understand. His eyes brightened, but then he let out another shaky breath and turned his head away from Dean’s touch. “You have no idea,” he whispered. 

“Look at me,” said Dean. “We’re talking about your vessel, right? About Juliane? I knew it was you and I loved her _because_ I knew it was you. Do you understand?” 

Castiel closed his eyes, forehead pressed against Dean’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

“Stay with me,” said Dean. “I sent out a prayer, someone will come. Please, hold on a little longer.” His pleas were met with silence. “Cas?” This couldn’t be it. The dreams ended this way, but surely he could fix this in reality. “Answer me,” he said. 

The angel’s breathing slowed. 

“I love you,” whispered Dean. “I’ve loved you for so long and I’m such an idiot. This is my fault. Stay with me. Please. You’re so strong. I know you can get through this.” He pulled the angel closer and leaned down, their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Castiel’s weak, dying breaths against his face. “I love you, Cas,” he said. “Please forgive me.” 

He felt one last exhale against his cheek and Castiel was gone.

 

xxx

 

There were no scored wings when Castiel died. There was no glow to denote his escaping grace. There were no angels to mourn their brother. Castiel was human when he died. He’d given up everything and there was nothing to honor his sacrifice. Castiel left behind an empty vessel and Dean. 

Dean didn’t know how long he stayed hunkered down in the sand clinging to Cas’ body. It was long enough for the blood to dry and for Dean to realize, and then forget how thirsty he was. It was long enough for him to successfully shut out every thought that tried to infect this private moment. It was long enough for the sun to become unbearable, then set, and coat the world in merciful darkness. 

As the night chased away the heat of the day and the cool air began to sooth his burning skin, Dean allowed himself to think again. Thoughts came back to him one at a time and he slowly began to accept the fact that he could not sit here and rot with the other bodies. Through the grief that clouded his mind, he remembered what Chuck said. 

 _You’re going to need that persistence if you want to get him back._  

He knew what he had to do next. Castiel was human when he died, which explained why Dean always found him in Hell in his dreams. The demons probably knew Lucifer was dead and, if Chuck was right, Crowley was dead too. Hell would be a free-for-all, but that might make it easier to break in. No angels answered his prayers, which meant Cas was probably still not welcome in Heaven. God may have been the last one there who loved Cas and if Amara was right and her brother was dead, then Castiel almost certainly went to Hell. Dean could handle Hell. 

Carefully, he unwrapped himself from around Castiel and laid the body in the sand. Dean’s exposed skin was hot and swollen from sunburn and his body ached for water. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the nausea that urged him back to the ground. The first thing he had to do was get Cas’ body back to the bunker. It would be safe there. Next, he’d need to distract a probably pissed off Sammy so he could find a way into Hell. He could make up the rest as he went. As his plan evolved, he felt a new wave of energy. He knew how to save people; it was the one thing he was sure he could do. He was going to save Cas, then he was going to spend the rest of his life making up for every terrible thing he’d done to him.

Dean scanned the horizon for anything that remotely resembled a town. He could see lights to the west. They were dim, but he was almost certain they came from a city. He couldn’t begin to guess how far away it was, but he didn’t really care. As long as he got there before he passed out or died, Cas still had a chance. 

Once they were in the city, he could summon a crossroad demon and threaten it until it took him home, assuming crossroad demons were still at their posts. He bent down to pick up an angel blade. He noticed another glittering in the moonlight a few steps away and decided to take it too. In Hell, the more weapons the better. 

As he stooped to grab the second blade, a faint blue glow caught his eye. He tucked both blades under his arm and moved toward it. He tried not to get his hopes up, but that blue was so familiar. The light was weak and made weaker by the dirt covering it. A black cord stuck out of the sand near the glow. Dean knelt down and tugged the cord gently. The glow moved as he pulled. Cautiously, he began to lift the cord into the air. An illuminated object dangled from the end. 

It took Dean a moment to realize what he was seeing. His amulet, the amulet Sam gave him so many years ago, the amulet he’d thrown away, hung from the cord. It wasn’t the same solid brass he was use to seeing. It was translucent with only a hint of the old color showing beneath the blue light. Dean took a deep breath and dropped it into his palm. 

Instantly, the scar on his shoulder burned and for the first time, in a long time, Dean was filled with hope. Castiel’s grace was not destroyed. Though he didn’t know how, some of it remained with the amulet. Dean didn’t know how much, but maybe it was enough. He said a silent thank you to whatever benevolent overlord was responsible for this small miracle. 

He rushed back to Cas’ body and pressed the amulet into the angel’s hand. “Go back to Cas,” he said. Nothing happened. He examined the amulet searching for a way to open it and release the grace. “Fuck,” he muttered. He realized, even if he could find a way to open it, he wasn’t sure he could make it go back to Cas. He wasn’t even sure it _could_ go back now that he was dead. This could be his only chance. He needed to do this carefully. He needed to get back to the bunker. 

He sighed and hung the amulet around his neck. He tucked it beneath his shirt so the metal touched his skin. He pulled Cas into his arms, keeping the injured side of Cas’ body protected against his chest, and rose to his feet. 

He looked toward the lights and gave himself a reassuring nod. “Let’s go home,” he said.

 

xxx

 

When deafening rush of wind subsided and the world stopped spinning, Dean staggered back, set Castiel on the ground and crouched over him, angel blade drawn and ready to fight whatever had attacked them. 

They’d just been outside in the dark surrounded by sand. Now, they were in a bright room with a concrete floor. Somewhere, from across the room, someone called his name. Dean flinched as Sam rushed to his side. He blinked, still processing the change. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

“What happened?” asked Sam. “Where were you? Is he—” He stopped short when he saw Cas lying motionless on the floor. He lowered his voice and turned to Dean with that heartbroken look he use to get when their father would stay gone too long and the brothers would wonder if he’d survived. “What happened?” he asked again. 

Dean collapsed. Dream, reality, magic, death, blood, war; he didn’t know how to answer Sam’s question. His body shook and he covered his eyes with one hand and held onto Cas with the other. He was crying, sobbing, and he didn’t care because he didn’t know if this was real or if he’d actually died out there in the desert and finally failed Cas for the last time. 

He felt arms around him and he fell into his brother’s embrace. Somewhere on the other side of him, he felt another pair of arms wrap around him as Eileen joined them. 

“We’ll get him back,” said Sam gently. “We’ll do whatever it takes.” 

Dean dropped his hand from his eyes and let it rest on the amulet around his neck. He didn’t realize he’d reached for it until the metal grew so hot he had to pull it out from underneath his shirt. Sam and Eileen both leaned away from him as he moved. 

With one hand still gripping Cas, he pulled the amulet over his head and held it in front of him by the cord. It swung back and forth on its tether, blue glow stronger now than it was when Dean found it. 

“Is that?” asked Sam. 

Dean stared at the object. “Cas?” he said. “Can you hear me?”

He felt Sam’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “Dean,” he began.

He recognized that tone. Sam was worried. Dean knew he looked like a lunatic; dirty, bloody, sobbing, clutching his dead friend by the trench coat and now yelling at a glowing necklace in the middle of the bunker. 

“That’s not Cas,” said Sam quietly.

Dean ignored him. “Cas, give me a sign. I need some help here.” At that, the amulet flashed bright blue and Dean felt warmth spread through him. 

Sam and Eileen both jumped back. “Holy shit,” exclaimed Sam. 

“That's a sign” said Dean. 

“It healed you,” said Sam. 

“This is not an it,” spat Dean. “This is Cas.” He glanced down at his body in spite of himself. Sam was right. He was healed.

Sam shook his head. “That’s not Cas, but it is his grace and I’d bet my life that he did something to it to make work for you.”

"How do you know this isn't Cas?" growled Dean.

"I've read about grace," answered Sam. "I figured we should know more about it since we're around it all the time."

Dean scowled at the amulet. It felt like Cas. 

Sam moved closer to his brother slowly. “It might not be _him_ but it was part of him. It made him and angel and it might be enough to bring him back.” 

Dean nodded. At least they were on the same page in terms of rescue. “It brought me home.” He realized when he said _Let’s go home_ the amulet must have responded and taken them back to the bunker. He wiped the last of the tears from his eyes and laughed. “My very own ruby-red slippers,” he muttered. He laughed again. He wasn’t dead. This wasn’t a dream. He was really home and Cas’ grace really wasn’t destroyed and Dean really could bring him back. He hadn’t failed. Not yet. His plan could still work. He didn’t realize he was grinning like an idiot watching the amulet like it had him hypnotized, until Sam spoke. 

“You ok?” he asked. 

“I’ve got magic,” answered Dean. “I’m fucking great.” 

“It’s not magic,” said Sam. “It’s grace and if you’re not careful with it, you might use it up. I don’t exactly know how this stuff works and neither do you.” 

Dean finally released his hold on Cas and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ve got to go, Sammy,” he said. “Don’t burn Cas. Put him in the dungeon. He’ll be safe there.” 

“You mean his body will be safe there?” asked Sam. “You know this,” he gestured to Cas, “isn’t Castiel anymore and neither is that amulet, right? These are just pieces of him.” 

Dean stepped over Cas, eyes still locked on the necklace. “I’m coming for you,” he said. He heard something rustle behind him and realized too late that his brother was on his feet. 

Sam grabbed him around the shoulders, pinning him to the spot. Eileen rushed forward and snatched the amulet from Dean’s hands. He must have missed the part where they coordinated their attack. 

“Damnit Sam,” growled Dean, “let me go!” He struggled against his brother and knocked them both off balance. They toppled to the floor and he heard Sam wince. 

“You’re not thinking straight,” grunted Sam. “And you’re sure as Hell not going to ditch us again.” 

Dean struggled against him. “I swear to God Sam, let me go or I will use that grace and make you!” 

Sam suddenly released him. “Be my fucking guest,” he spat. He shoved Dean away from him. “Waste Cas’ power. Waste the last chance we have to get him back. Go ahead. Be a stubborn jackass and do it your way and don’t come crying back to me when you fuck up again.” 

Dean sat up, but didn’t look at Sam. What he said was true, but Dean wasn’t ready to hear it. 

When Sam spoke again his voice was softer, but only marginally. “Help me move his body to the dungeon. Then we’ll come back up here, you’ll tell us what happened, and we’ll come up with a game plan together.” 

Dean heard footsteps as his brother approached. He looked up to see Sam offering a hand to help him up. Dean accepted it. 

“He was my friend too,” said Sam. 

“I know,” muttered Dean. He turned away from Sam, then knelt and lifted Cas into his arms once again. 

Eileen and Sam followed him to the dungeon, but neither of them spoke. They didn’t question him when Dean checked and double-checked the sigils around Cas, and began to draw a few new ones. They helped him and when they were finally done, he let them lead him away from Cas and up to the library. 

They sat quietly while Dean recounted the story. Sam began taking notes about halfway through. When Dean was finished talking, Sam glanced over his notes, muttering to himself while Eileen read over his shoulder. Every so often she’d point to something and sign. Sam would nod again and write something down. 

After a while, Dean finally convinced them to let him have the amulet back, apparently he seemed less manic than before. He watched them work and struggled to keep himself calm. He didn’t tell them about his dreams. He didn’t tell them he already knew what to do. He didn’t tell them he had to do this alone. He didn’t tell them he planned to leave that night. He didn’t tell them Cas was human when he died.

Sam began scouring the bookshelves. He and Eileen thought they needed to revive an angel. Dean needed them to keep thinking that. He needed them to believe this was helping. He needed them to believe he was calm. 

Eileen left the bunker briefly to get whatever she thought they needed to save Cas. Dean considered running out while only Sam was watching him, but decided against it. This was a test. Sam probably expected him to run.

 

xxx

 

Later that night, after everyone was supposed to be asleep, Dean heard something moving outside of his door. He heard a voice recite an incantation, then heard a popping sound. He didn’t need to see the other side of the door to know Sam was trying to make sure he didn’t leave. 

Dean wasn’t surprised Sam went for magic over a deadbolt. Locked doors could still be broken down. He waited another two hours before trying the doorknob. It twisted and his door creaked open and Dean stepped into the hall. Sam failed to notice the symbols carved into the four corners of the doorway. Dean prepared for this. 

He crept down the hall and made his way to the garage. As soon as he opened the door an earsplitting siren went off. Dean didn’t have time to wonder how the fuck his brother managed that one. He ran to Sam’s car, opened the door and shoved the keys into the ignition. The garage door took an eternity to open. He could hear Sam shouting, even above the alarm. 

Once he had enough clearance, he hit the gas and sped out of the driveway and away from the bunker.


	21. You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today because I figured it would be cruel to leave you hanging considering the way this one ends.
> 
> Since the story is coming to a close, is there anything you guys would like to have happen before it ends? Do you have questions you need answered or scenes you'd like to read? I want to make sure I don't leave any loose ends.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You guys are the best!
> 
> PS: this is a somewhat violent chapter

Purgatory was more or less the way Castiel remembered it. He found a place by the river where he remembered camping with Dean and Benny. He climbed a large tree nearby and curled into a spot where branch met trunk. He could hear monsters creeping through the forest below. 

Castiel stayed in the tree for several days. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t deserve comfort so he didn’t complain. After a week, he decided something should have discovered him by now. Shortly after that, something did. 

A rugaru found his hiding place and was halfway up the tree before Castiel noticed. He heard the leaves rustle in the lower branches and happened to glance down in time to see the creature press itself against the trunk to hide. 

Castiel was unarmed. He bowed his head and wrapped his arms around himself and listened as the rustling crept closer. When the creature finally appeared Castiel didn’t try to get away. 

The rugaru leapt on top of him. Its teeth sunk into his neck. It clutched the tree with one hand and dug its fingernails into Castiel with the other. It growled against his skin, breath hot and foul. Once it realized Castiel was not struggling, it repositioned him against the branch like a panther securing a kill. It settled itself against him and began tearing at his flesh, lapping up blood as it flowed from his body. 

The pain was not particularly severe. The creature tore away flesh and clothing with its teeth. Castiel knew blood loss would be the thing to kill him. He closed his eyes and waited. He didn’t know what would happen to him if he died in Purgatory. He didn’t care.

 

xxx

 

Dean finished drawing the last sigil from Bobby’s notebook and took a step back. “Messorum evoco qui me tetigit,” he said. 

He couldn’t find a crossroad demon and all the demons he could call upon by name were dead. Summoning a reaper was far from ideal, but he didn’t have a lot of options and he needed to get to Cas. He let one hand rest on the amulet hidden under his shirt as he waited. 

The reaper spoke before it revealed itself. A dense fog rolled in around Dean and he could see a figure moving through it. “Winchester,” it said. 

“Hey Billie,” he said.

She stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. “I really thought you were going to bake to death outside of Jerusalem.” 

“Jerusalem?” asked Dean. He realized that must have been where Amara took him. Had he known he and Cas were so far from home, he might have given up instead of trying to get back. 

Billie nodded. “You are luckier than you deserve.” 

“I got a favor to ask,” said Dean. 

“I don’t do favors,” she answered. 

“How about a deal?” asked Dean. 

Billie thought about it for a moment. “All right,” she said slowly. “It depends on what you want from me.” 

“I need to get into Hell.” 

“Hell is a mess. I can’t take you there.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“I refuse,” said Billie. “But, I can get you close.” 

Dean scowled. “What does that mean?” 

“I’ll take you to Purgatory,” she said. “You can get yourself into Hell from there, if you survive.” 

“Deal,” said Dean. 

“You don’t want to hear my terms?” she asked. 

“I thought those were your terms.” 

Billie sneered at him. “You are your brother have been pampered by the underworld for too long. I’m not like Death or your little gang of angels and demons.” 

“Fine then,” snapped Dean. “What do you want?” 

Billie shrugged. “A favor. I haven’t thought of it yet.” 

“I’m not going to sign a blank check and hand it over,” said Dean. “You know what I want, I should know what you want.” 

“Relax,” said Billie. “It won’t involve your little brother or your little friends. I’ll keep it just between us.”

“No,” said Dean. 

“Ok,” said Billie. “Good luck saving your angel.” She turned to leave. 

“Wait,” shouted Dean. _So much for a poker face,_ he thought. “Nobody else can get hurt.” 

“Cross my heart,” said Billie, her eyes glittering with anticipation. 

“Just a favor from me, right?” asked Dean. “And I’m not going to kill anybody or bring you a virgin to sacrifice or something?” 

“I promise,” said Billie. “This is just between us.” 

She already knew what she wanted. Dean could see it on her face. This was a trap and everything in him screamed not to take the deal. “I’ll do it,” he said. 

Billie flashed a toothy grin and extended her hand. Dean accepted it and a sharp pain shot through his arm and spread through his body. He saw Billie wince and realized she must have felt the same thing. 

“Now it’s official,” she said. “I can’t break my promise and neither can you.” She snapped her fingers and they were suddenly standing in a familiar dismal forest. Billie released Dean’s hand. 

“I need a weapon,” said Dean. “I wasn’t ready.” He had a knife on him, but that wouldn't help him against a dragon or something worse.

“You should have specified that in the deal,” said Billie. 

“Damnit Billie, you knew I wasn’t ready.” 

“Speaking of damnation,” she said, “I know what I want for my favor.” 

“Fuck,” muttered Dean. 

“When you die, be it in 100 years or in the next few seconds, you will return to Hell and serve as its gatekeeper.”

“So what, I’ll be a demon again?” 

“Basically,” answered Billie. “It’s actually a very honorable job. You’ll be in charge of keeping Hell separated from the mortal realm. Technically, I’m doing you two favors.” 

“Bullshit,” spat Dean. He was angry, but in terms of a deal, this wasn’t the worst she could have asked of him. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” said Billie. “It’s unbecoming of a Knight of Hell.” 

Dean regretted his next question, but he had to know. “How are you going to make me a knight again?” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” she cooed. “When you die, your soul will come to me, the promise spell will make sure of that, then I’ll take it from there.” 

He knew he should keep her talking, ask more questions and figure out what he’d gotten himself into, but him thoughts were wholly and completely dedicated to Cas. 

“I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get to your angel,” said Billie. “We can discuss the particulars later. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” She snapped her fingers again and disappeared. 

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Dean. If Purgatory didn’t kill him, Sam would. He searched the ground for anything he could use as a weapon and wondered how long he could keep the deal a secret.

 

xxx

 

Castiel did not die. The rugaru fed on him until he slipped into unconsciousness. When he came to, he was covered in blood and grime and chunks of his flesh were missing. There was a large section of his arm where the meat had been torn away and the bone was exposed. The pain crept in slowly. It was tolerable at first, but the more he thought about it, the worse it became. 

He clenched his jaw and tried to push himself up into a sitting position. He realized, dimly, he was on the ground at the base of the tree. He managed to sit up, despite the pain and he leaned his head back against the bark. Behind him, in the underbrush, something growled low and hungry. 

Maybe this was how Purgatory wanted him to die. Maybe he would be ripped apart until there was nothing left of him to destroy. It would be a slow death, but he was willing to wait. He couldn’t stand himself anymore. He longed for nothingness. He longed to sleep and forget.

 

xxx

 

Dean didn’t know how long it took him to get to the portal. Time was a fucked up thing everywhere but Earth. If he had to make a conservative guess, he’d say it was a month before he reached the door to Hell. Billie, eager bitch that she was, made sure he was far away from his destination when they arrived. She was probably watching him, waiting for him to die. 

He had a decent collection of weapons. He’d found two axes similar to the one he used the first time. He also had a bowie knife on him when Billie teleported them. He considered it to be more of a tool than a weapon, especially in Purgatory. He used the knife to cut bones out of a werewolf and he fashioned them into a club. An angel blade was preferable to all of these things, but at least he wasn’t entering Hell empty handed. 

When he reached the portal, he was almost as excited to leave Purgatory, as he was reluctant to enter Hell. He braced himself, ready to attack whatever he saw on the other side. He took a breath and tumbled though the portal. 

Dean hit the ground hard and hurried to his feet, ax in one hand, knife in the other. He was in a dark, rocky cavern and the air was heavy with sulfur. He remembered that smell. Something moved in the shadows and a cold, deep laugh echoed off the rocks. Dean turned and saw two white eyes watching him from the darkness.

 

xxx

 

Castiel was broken bones and shredded flesh. He rested against a rock in a section of the woods he didn’t recognize. A vampire caught him earlier, but let him go once it realized he would not make a sufficient meal. How long had he been in Purgatory? Castiel didn’t know how or why he had survived this long. Pain meant nothing to him. He barely felt anything anymore. The only time he moved was when something dragged or carried him to a new spot. He lost track of his injuries. His body was numb, battered and grotesque. Now, not even the monsters would have him. He closed his eye and prayed for sleep.

“Cas?” A gruff voice called to him. 

Castiel’s eyes shot open and he turned toward the sound. Dean stepped forward and knelt beside him. The hunter was injured, but still strong. 

“You look like shit,” said Dean. 

“How are you…” Castiel began. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Well that’s probably the truest damn thing you’ve ever said,” grumbled Dean. “You don’t remember?” 

“No,” answered Castiel. 

Dean laughed bitterly and shook his head. “You fucked up again, buddy,” he said.

“No,” whispered Castiel. “I healed you. I thought—”

“Yeah,” said Dean, cutting him off. “You healed me, then you died and left me in the middle of the goddamn desert.” 

Castiel shook his head. “We were only 20 miles outside of the city. I thought you would find a road. I thought you could survive.” 

“Key word is _desert_ Cas,” said Dean. “I’ll tell you what, it’s a Hell of a thing to bake to death at 110 degrees. Do you have any idea how long that takes?” He ran a hand over his face. “And Purgatory? That’s a raw deal. I mean, I’m technically not human and I’m technically not demon so I guess that makes sense. Fuck. Who would’ve guessed we’d end up here again?” 

Castiel shuttered. He should have let Dean use the grace on his own. Castiel shouldn’t have tried to save him. Dean was dead because of him. 

“Can you imagine Sammy’s face when someone finally finds my body out there?” asked Dean. “Worst part is, he’s not going to know what happened, just that I suffered.” Dean sighed. “He’s gonna hate that.” 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Castiel.

“Sorry doesn’t bring back the dead,” said Dean. 

“I should never have left Lucifer,” he said. 

“I can’t disagree with you on that one,” said Dean. “You don’t have a lot of staying power, do you?” Dean stood up and brushed off his hands. “And now you’re lying here hoping something will finally off you. Can’t even commit to death.” 

“I don’t deserve to exist anymore,” said Castiel quietly. 

“True,” said Dean. He nudged Castiel with the tip of his boot and made a face. “You are disgusting, you know that?” 

Castiel closed his eyes. “Kill me,” he whispered. 

Dean laughed. “Why, so you can be free while I’m stuck here?” 

“I can’t…” Castiel tried to compose himself. “Please,” he begged. 

“Please what, Cas?” asked Dean. “Forgive you? Pity you? Put you out of your misery? How about ‘D, none of the above.’ How about I leave you right where I found you.” 

“Don’t leave me,” whispered Castiel.

“Ugh,” muttered Dean. “Have some damn dignity Cas.” 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said again. 

“Yeah, you’ve said that so many times it’s starting to lose meaning,” said Dean. “You’d think it would be easier for you to just stop fucking up.” He nudged Castiel again. “You’re selfish, Cas.” 

“I know,” he said. 

“Did you really think you could switch bodies and make me like you? And for the love of fuck, why’d you pull something like that with Amara attacking? You’re fucked up.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Look at me,” said Dean.

Castiel obeyed.

“Whatever we had, it wasn’t love,” said Dean. “And after filthy fucking stunt you pulled—trying to kiss me—you blew it.”

Castiel just nodded. 

“Then you tricked me into thinking you were something better than you were with that Juliane thing?” Dean grimaced. “You betrayed me.” 

“I know,” he said again. 

“Then you let me die.”

As Dean recited each sin, a new jolt of pain shot through Castiel’s body. He tried not to flinch. This was his punishment. He needed to accept that. 

“Now I’m stuck with you forever,” said Dean. “You can’t even begin to know how much I hate that.” Dean pulled out his bowie knife and for a brief, promising moment, Castiel thought Dean was going to kill him. The hunter wiped the blade on his shirt. “See you around, Cas,” he said. 

Dean turned to leave. Castiel did not call for him. Dean was right. This was what he deserved. He listened to the hunter’s boots crunch against the detritus on the forest floor until he heard nothing but the sound of the other monsters.


	22. Just a man and his will to survive

Alastair offered Dean his whip. The barbs on the end were still wet with Dean’s blood. “How about it, Winchester?” asked the demon. “I know talent when I see it. I always preferred you off the rack.”

Dean hung his head and turned away from the weapon as much as his restraints would allow. He was strung up, arms chained over his head, legs spread and feet chained to the ground. He was naked and vulnerable. Alastair shouldn’t be alive; couldn’t be alive. 

At first, Dean had refused to believe the white-eyed demon survived. He demanded an explanation. Alastair had laughed. 

“The Devil’s dead, God’s dead, the Darkness is dead, Lilith is dead and Crowley is dead. There are no rules anymore,” he said. 

It wasn’t an answer, but before long the pain overwhelmed him and the _why_ or _how_ of it all was soon forgotten. Each day began the same. Dean would regain consciousness, remember where he was, remember his body was exposed and unprotected, remember the pain of the day before. Then he’d try to prepare himself for the pain he knew would come next. 

This day was no different. Alastair made his offer, freedom in exchange for becoming a punisher, Dean refused. Alastair dug into him with knives and needles. He burned Dean’s flesh with hot iron rods and whipped him until the hunter’s body when limp against his chains. 

“Don’t be proud boy,” said the demon. “It’s a good deal. You should take it.” 

Dean closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Soon he would pass out, then wake up in time to greet the next brutal session with Alastair. He focused on Cas. This was a rescue mission. He had to escape. If this was what the demons were doing to him, he could only imagine the cruelty they’d inflict on a fallen angel. 

Alastair gave a disgusted, disappointed groan. Dean heard the sound of leather and metal hitting flesh. The demon resumed his torture, but Dean’s body ached so thoroughly his mind couldn’t even register the new wounds. He just listened to the harsh crack of the whip and knew his body was again being ripped and mangled by the weapon. 

Finally, as Dean teetered on the very edge of awareness, Alastair stopped and everything became very quiet. He heard a heavy thud as something dropped to the ground. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the figure standing in front of him. Their eyes were dark, but not black like a demon. This was something different.

The figure shuffled around Dean, supporting his body as it began to unchain him. The last thing Dean remembered was falling to his knees onto the hard ground.

 

xxx

 

Dean came around some time later. The pain was gone. He was clothed and his limbs were free. He was lying on his stomach. It took him a moment to assess his new situation. 

“Where’s your brother?” 

Dean jumped up to a sitting position and turned toward the voice. John Winchester stood nearby with a machete in one hand and a torch in the other. 

“Dad?” asked Dean. His father was not in Hell. John and Mary had their own Heaven. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be seeing his father here. 

“Where’s Sam?” asked John, a little more forcefully this time. 

“Earth,” answered Dean. “He’s home. He’s safe.” 

“What are you doing here?” asked John. 

Dean scowled. “A friend of mine is in trouble.” 

“This friend, he’s here?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

“So you left your little brother alone while demons are running around unchecked, to save some friend?” 

“Yes,” answered Dean. 

“Sammy is blood,” said John. 

“I know that,” snapped Dean. 

“But you left him anyway.” 

“I didn’t leave him. I’m going back as soon as I find Cas.” 

“You’ve got one job, Dean.” 

“I’m doing my damn job,” said Dean. “I made sure Sam wasn’t anywhere near this mess.” 

“Family comes first,” said John.

“Cas is family,” said Dean. 

John shook his head at his eldest son. “I didn’t raise you to be disloyal.” 

“What are you even doing here?” snapped Dean. “Aren’t you supposed to be fucking around in Heaven?” 

“I never went to Heaven,” answered John. “I stayed in Hell. I learned to survive here. I thought I taught you well enough that you would be able to do the same.” He ran his eyes over Dean’s injuries. “For the life of me I don’t know where I went wrong with you.” 

Dean scowled at his father. No matter how old he was, John could always make him feel like a child.

“What about the Darkness?” asked John. “Are you sure she’s dead? How do you know she won’t come for Sam?” 

“How do you know about the Darkness?” asked Dean.

“Everybody knows.” John growled. “Same way everybody knows about you and that fucking angel.” 

Dean cocked his head to the side. Something was wrong. 

“Thought I beat the cocksucker out of you years ago,” said John. 

Dean put a hand over the amulet around his neck. It was still there. Alastair didn’t take it and neither did his father. Dean couldn’t reach it while he was chained to the rack, but he was free now. He pressed the pendent against his chest and suddenly his vision clouded and he lost sight of John. 

Dean jumped and released the amulet and his vision cleared. John was still talking, still demanding answers. Curious, Dean held the amulet again, this time enclosing it completely in the palm of his hand. 

John disappeared and Dean was standing in a dim cavern alone. At his feet, were the weapons he’d carried over from Purgatory. As he took in his surroundings, he realized he was not far from the portal. Dean released the amulet again and the weapons disappeared and John came back, but something was different. His father’s voice was distant and he seemed almost transparent. 

 _Holy shit,_ thought Dean, _I’m hallucinating. This isn’t real._

As soon as the thought entered his mind, John Winchester disappeared and Dean was back in the cavern. Was any of that real? He collected his weapons. He kept an ax in one hand and clutched the amulet around his neck with the other. Dean decided Hell was responsible for the illusions. Maybe this was what it was like before the demons took control, before Lucifer was caged. Maybe the souls here damned themselves. 

“All right,” said Dean slowly, “we’ve got to find Cas.” He was talking to the necklace as though he thought it might answer him back. “I don’t want to waste a lot of power on this,” said Dean carefully. “We can take this step at a time, but Hell’s big and I’m going to need a little bit of help getting you back to our angel.” 

The amulet grew warm in his hand. Dean decided that was a sign. “Good,” he said. Not far from where he was standing, someone screamed. Dean ran toward the sound. He stopped short when he rounded the corner. 

Two demons were locked in a fight. One was clearly much stronger than the other and from the looks of it, the winning demon seemed to be attempting to consume his opponent. That was a new one. 

Dean launched himself at the stronger demon and drove his ax into its neck. It disintegrated before it had a chance to realize what happened. Dean rounded on the other demon and tackled it. He pressed the ax blade against its neck. 

“Where is Castiel?” he demanded. 

“Who?” asked the demon. 

Dean jammed the blade into the demon and it too, disintegrated. “I’m not going to fucking negotiate,” muttered Dean. He stood and continued through Hell. He tried to take his cues from the way the amulet would glow and dim as he made his way through flame and shadow. 

He encountered more demons, each as useless as the first two. Every now and then, he’d hear a soul cry out for help or mercy. He didn’t stop. He was here for Cas and Cas alone. 

He let grace guide him. The amulet’s glow was growing stronger and every time Dean rounded a corner, he expected to see Cas. Finally, the blue light from the necklace was so strong Dean could barely make out the features of the pendant. He shielded his face as a sudden burst of flames erupted around him, and ran forward. The amulet was hot in his hand and his palm began to blister. He dodged another wall of fire and suddenly found himself engulfed in inky black darkness. The amulet was the only thing to light his way. It urged him forward; deeper into what must be another cavern. Up ahead, he heard someone moan. 

Dean pulled the necklace over his head and held it out further to get a better look. Someone lay on the ground pressed against the rocks. Dean’s heart was pounding against his chest. He recognized the trench coat. He ran to the man on the ground and rolled him onto his back. Castiel’s eyes were closed and his head drooped to one side. 

Dean’s hand trembled as he pulled the amulet over Cas’ head and tucked it beneath his shirt. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but when nothing happened, he was disappointed. “Cas?” he said softly. He shook the angel’s shoulders. “Cas, can you hear me?” 

Cas’ eyes fluttered, but he didn’t answer. 

“It’s ok,” whispered Dean. He ran a hand through Cas’ hair. “I’m going to get you home and so help me God, I’m never letting go of you again.” He hesitated for a moment, then leaned down a pressed his lips to Castiel’s brow. He lifted Cas into his arms and retraced his steps back to the portal. 

Dean carried the angel all the way back to the Purgatory entrance, only setting him down when a demon got in their way. There weren’t many. The demons were too preoccupied by the disorder of their realm. The monsters of Purgatory would be different. They were use to chaos. They thrived on it. 

Dean pushed Cas through the portal first and followed quickly behind him. Once on the other side, he lifted Cas to his chest again and began the journey to the portal that would take them home.

 

xxx

 

Castiel did not wake up. Dean carried him until his arms shook and his muscles threatened to give out. He finally decided it was safer to go ahead and absorb Cas’ soul. He repeated the steps he’d used to absorb Benny and felt immediate relief once the angel was safely embedded within his body. Dean wore the amulet again but, as much as he wanted to believe it was safe, he didn't let his guard down. 

He trudged through Purgatory searching for the portal to Earth. The monsters could probably smell the angel with him. Shadows stalked and creatures growled as he pressed ahead. It wasn’t long before he lost track of how many monsters he’d killed. On the rare occasion that the forest went quiet, Dean would look down at the blue glow beneath his skin. He’d cut across the scar left by the Mark of Cain to absorb Cas’ soul. Now, when he looked at the scar, he felt hope instead of shame. 

After about week of wandering in circles, another week of retracing his steps and three days after he found a familiar part of the forest, Dean reached the portal home. He ran his hand over the blue light rooted in his forearm. They survived. He inhaled deeply, held his soul-bearing arm close to his chest, and jumped into the light.


	23. Back in black

Dean landed face-first in the dirt. He pushed himself up and titled his head back to take in the deep blue of the sky through the trees above him. He grinned and touched the amulet around his neck, then ran a hand over the soul nestled in his arm. “We made it,” he said. 

The fact that he didn’t have a car, phone, or basic camping supplies didn’t bother him. He’d hitchhiked before. After Purgatory, the trek back to the bunker would be a freaking cakewalk. The portal between Earth and Purgatory was tucked away in the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine. Logging roads twisted through the surrounding Appalachian Mountains and were maintained by the forest service. 

Branches rustled and leaves crunched somewhere to his left as something big approached him. Before he had a chance to wonder what fresh Hell awaited him, someone called out.

“Dean?” 

He looked toward the sound, eyebrows pinched together. “Sammy?” 

His little brother came into view followed closely by Eileen. When they saw Dean, they broke into a run and Sam wrapped his arms around him in a crushing bear hug. 

“What are you doing here?” asked Dean, once Sam released him. 

Sam suddenly looked smug. “I put trackers on all the cars in the bunker—yes, including baby—we traced the signal after you stole my car—dick move by the way—and found where you parked it. We saw the reaper summoning sigils. I figured that meant you went to Purgatory, so Eileen and I headed out here to watch the portal for when you came back.” 

“How long have you been out here?” asked Dean. 

“Freaking weeks.” 

“Over a month,” corrected Eileen. 

“I called Garth,” said Sam. “I was going to summon a reaper myself to ask it where you were, but I figured I’d get Billie and that seemed like a shitty plan. Garth got a pretty low level one and threatened it, and it told him you were with Billie in Purgatory, but she lost sight of you once you went to Hell.” 

“Jesus, Sammy,” said Dean. “You’ve got eyes in ever realm.” 

Sam grinned clearly proud of himself. “Anyway, I figured Cas must have been human when he died—duh, don’t know why I didn’t get that sooner—I realized you must have figured out he went to Hell because there’s no way they’d let him in Heaven. I don’t know how you knew where to find him though, were you just going off of a hunch?” 

Dean tapped the necklace. “This thing kind of led me to him.” He’d explain the dreams later. 

Sam nodded as if that was what he’d suspected. “Point being, we’ve just been hanging out here waiting for you to get back.”

Eileen signed something that looked like “camp…back…it is waiting…escape.” 

“What?” asked Dean. 

“Oh, right.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Garth brought us the reaper. We’ve got it trapped back at camp. He put some weird spell on it to force it to see into two realms at once. It was giving us daily updates once you got back from Hell. This morning it said you were close to the portal so we headed out here to meet you.” Sam kicked a pinecone near his feet and suddenly looked guilty. “I was going to go in after you, but I knew you’d worry about keeping me safe instead of getting to Cas.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good, Sammy.” 

“Yeah?” The guilt faded a little. 

“Hell yeah,” confirmed Dean. “Only thing you could have done better was track down baby and get her back to the bunker.” 

Sam’s face brightened. “I did,” he said. “Took a few trips to round up the cars, but both of them are safe and accounted for. We had to take something with 4-wheel drive to get out here, but the other cars are back in the garage.” 

Dean grinned. “I guess you thought of everything. Keep it up and you’ll be the next Bobby.” 

Sam shrugged. Being a Winchester meant he was genetically incapable of receiving a compliment. “Is that Cas?” He nodded to the glow in Dean’s arm. 

“Yeah. I need to get him back to his body before I can release his soul.” 

Sam nodded. “We buried him a few days after you left. I didn’t want him to rot away in the dungeon. He’s safe though,” Sam added quickly. “I put all kinds of protection sigils around the grave.” 

Dean shuddered at the idea of Cas having a grave, but Sam was right to bury him. “All right,” said Dean. “Let’s pack up and get the Hell out of here.”

 

xxx

 

Dean let Sam drive back to Kansas. He slept for most of the return trip. He’d had just enough energy left to help Sam and Eileen pack up camp and kill the reaper before his body decided it was time to shut down. As soon as he got in the backseat, his “escape Purgatory” adrenaline rush died down. 

It took two days to get home, even with Sam pushing the truck to top speed. They stopped at a rundown hotel near the border of Ohio and Pennsylvania. Dean called dibs on the first shower and no one argued. As soon as he’d scrubbed himself clean of death, decay and God knows what else, he crashed facedown in the bed and didn’t wake until Sam told him it was time to hit the road again the next morning. 

Sam tried to pry a bit during the second leg of the journey. He wanted to know if Dean had talked to Cas. Dean told him Cas was unconscious for the whole trip and Sam shut up about it. Dean knew to appreciate the silence while it lasted. Sam wasn’t going to let it go for long. 

They reached the bunker and Sam and Eileen took Dean straight to the grave. They spent the afternoon and well into the night undoing sigils and digging up Cas’ body. Once the top of Sam’s makeshift plywood coffin was clear of dirt, Dean knelt beside it and opened the lid. He winced at the sight of Cas’ half decomposed form. Sam stooped beside him, ready to preform the ritual that would restore the angel. 

Dean took off the necklace and carefully pulled down around Cas’ neck. Then he held his arm out, knife ready, and nodded to his brother. Sam began the incantation and Dean sliced his forearm open again to release Castiel. Blue light poured from his arm and went straight to Cas. The amulet suddenly erupted in a blinding flash and an earsplitting screech rang out. Sam and Dean were suddenly engulfed in heat and light. Dean automatically went to Cas, but his brother stopped him. Sam grabbed him and forced him up and out of the grave, following quickly behind. 

Eileen stood back, shielding her eyes. She and Sam pulled Dean down just as a shockwave rippled through the ground. Then, just as suddenly as it had occurred, the light faded and the screeching stopped. The night was still again. 

Dean shoved Sam’s hand off of him and he leapt up and ran back to the grave. He jumped back into the hole and examined Cas. His hands trembled as they hovered over the angel’s body. Cas was no longer gaunt and lifeless. His lips were full and the color had returned to his cheeks. Dean watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, then rested two fingers on Castiel’s neck just to be sure. The steady thump, thump of a heartbeat beneath Cas’ skin reverberated though Dean’s hand and spread into his own chest. He finally let out a breath and did not fight the relief that washed over him. 

Castiel’s eyes fluttered and Dean pulled his hand back, suddenly unsure if he was allowed to touch the angel. After everything he’d done, Cas might not even want to look at him. Cas’ brows pulled into a scowl and he slowly opened his eyes. Dean held his breath. Cas took a moment to assess his surroundings. Finally, he seemed to realize he wasn’t alone. “Dean?” he asked.

“Hey Cas,” said Dean. His voice was not as steady as he wanted it to be and his eyes were already clouding with unshed tears. He rested a hand on the coffin, his fingertips just centimeters from actually touching Castiel. He wanted to hold him and beg forgiveness then and there, but he restrained himself. 

“What happened?” 

Dean smiled, heat rising in his cheeks. “I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

 

xxx

 

Castiel looked up from the flat of his back into the vast, dark sky above. Stars glittered faintly, flickering from white to blue to yellow. The moon was almost full and its light seemed to dim everything else around it. This was not the hopeless gray sky of Purgatory.

His lungs were heavy and his throat burned. It was difficult to breathe, but the fact that he _was_ breathing was the most pressing concern. Dean was beside him. Dean said he’d raised him from perdition. Eileen and Sam were outlined against the moonlight standing about six feet above him and Dean. 

“This is a grave,” he said, after a moment. 

Dean was still smiling. He nodded over his shoulder. “They buried you until I could get your soul back.” 

Castiel frowned at the hunter. This was not possible. “But you died,” he said. 

“No Cas,” said Dean. “You saved me.” He brushed the back of his hand over his cheek and Castiel realized the hunter was crying. “Let me help you up.” Dean offered his hand. 

Castiel gripped the side of what he now recognized to be a coffin and pushed himself into a sitting position. Dean pulled his hand back quickly. Castiel felt weak and dizzy and something hummed just beneath the surface of his vessel. It wove through his body, slowly healing him. “My grace,” he whispered. 

“It was still attached to the amulet,” said Dean. “It survived Amara. You’re wearing it now.” 

Castiel felt around his neck, but found nothing. Suddenly his hand brushed against a spot on his chest and he gasped in pain. His grace reacted to heal the wound, but the pain did not subside. 

Dean instantly moved in closer, pushing Castiel’s hands away and unbuttoning his search to search for the injury. “Holy shit,” murmured Dean. 

Castiel looked down at his exposed chest. The amulet was gone, but its imprint was burned into him, the skin red and blistered. Castiel touched the spot again, more gently this time. “I don’t understand,” he said. He looked up at Dean. 

“Looks like you’re branded too,” said Dean. 

Another wave of exhaustion crashed over Castiel. His grace tried to combat it, but he was still weak. He needed time to heal. “I don’t understand,” he said again. 

“How about we get out of this grave and I’ll try to explain,” said Dean. 

Castiel nodded, swaying slightly. He felt a strong arm wrap around his back, supporting him. Dean. They were much closer than usual and Castiel knew that made Dean uncomfortable. He tried to pull back and give the hunter some space. 

Dean did not move his arm, but relaxed his hold. A shadow fell across his face and he seemed troubled. “I’m sorry Cas,” whispered Dean. Sam called down to them before Castiel could inquire about the apology. 

“We should get inside and get Cas cleaned up,” said Sam. 

Castiel gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. Dean stood beside him, arms hovering around his body like an anxious parent trying to help their toddler stand. He was surprised again when Dean helped lift him out of the grave.

Once they were on ground level, Sam pulled him into a hug. “I missed you, man,” he said. 

“The feeling is mutual,” said Castiel, still stunned. When Sam released him, Eileen immediately followed suit and embraced him. When she pulled back, she was crying. 

“I hope your new vessel does not change our friendship,” she signed. 

Castiel frowned and tilted his head to one side. “You still wish to be friends even after I deceived you?” he signed back.

Eileen laughed. “Of course!” 

Castiel was overwhelmed. This was real. He would never be allowed this kind of peace in the afterlife. Only humanity could be so forgiving. “I would like to remain your friend as well,” he finally responded. Eileen hugged him again. She let go and Castiel turned to Dean. The hunter’s face was contorted with an unknown number of emotions. 

After a moment, Dean hesitantly took a step forward and raised his arms slightly. “Can I…?” he began. 

Castiel nodded, unsure of how else to respond. 

Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped on arm around Castiel’s waist and the other around his neck. The hunter’s soul felt heavy and dark. “I’m sorry Cas,” he repeated. “I never should have let you go.” 

Castiel did not respond. Why was Dean apologizing? Why was he not pulling away from Castiel? Why did Dean ask permission before hugging him when Sam and Eileen did not? He felt a soft breeze blow and shivered.

Dean pulled back, head hung and eyes still damp with tears. “Let’s get you inside,” he said, “then we’ll explain.” 

Dean stayed close as they walked back to the bunker. He kept looking sideways at Castiel. He seemed penitent, but that did not make sense. His message was clear when they met in Purgatory, he’d been so sure of himself then. Castiel almost jumped when he heard Dean’s prayer whisper through his thoughts. 

_Hey Cas, if you’re willing, I’d like to talk to you without Sam and Eileen around. I want to talk about—uh—I want to talk about us, I guess. If that’s ok with you._

Castiel looked at the hunter. Dean’s attention was split between watching Castiel and walking back to the bunker. Castiel nodded. He was willing to talk; of course he was willing to talk, but he was not looking forward to the conversation. He was sure Dean was going to explain that, though he brought Castiel back from Purgatory, this did not change the nature of their relationship.


	24. How well I remember, the look that was in his eyes

The three hunters did their best to explain what happened. Dean did most of the talking. Castiel did not interrupt the story. His mind was too busy trying to absorb the new information. He remembered the battle and he remembered finding the hunter struggling to stay alive. He healed Dean, then died. Apparently, afterwards, Dean summoned a reaper to bring Castiel back from Hell. But that didn’t make sense. Castiel was in Purgatory. 

“It was an illusion,” said Dean. “I saw Alastair again when I got there. I guess Hell is personalized now; kinda like Heaven.”

“But I saw you,” said Castiel slowly. “We spoke in the woods.” 

Dean frowned. “What did I say?” 

Castiel could not bring himself to repeat the words. Real or not, the memory made him queasy. “I do not remember the specifics,” he said. Part of him was afraid, if he repeated the conversation, Dean would remember it too. 

“You were definitely in Hell,” said Dean. “I went through Purgatory to get to you, but I found you in Hell. You were unconscious the whole way out. If we talked, it wasn’t real.” 

“How did you find me?” asked Castiel. 

“Your grace led me to you,” answered Dean. 

“Oh, yeah,” said Sam, “Cas, what did you do to make your grace answer to Dean.” 

Castile frowned. “I do not know what you mean.” 

“It teleported you and me back to the bunker,” said Dean. “After you died, I found the amulet and said we needed to get home then, poof, here we were.” 

“We?” asked Castiel, half expecting Dean to say Amara survived and followed him. 

“Uh, me and you,” answered Dean. 

“Ah, of course,” said Castiel. “Thank you for retrieving my vessel.” 

“I had to get you home, Cas,” said Dean. A broken sort of look came over him. 

“It healed him, too,” said Sam. “Your grace, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” said Dean, his expression changing to a soft smile. “Took me a while to realize it was going to respond every time I complained. I had to be careful what I said to it.” 

“We weren’t sure if Dean using it was making it weaker,” explained Sam. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I did not enchant my grace or the amulet.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps it was Chuck. He was the one who bound my grace to it.” 

“Any idea how he did it?” asked Dean. 

Castiel shook his head. “No.”

“How did he have my amulet?” asked Dean. 

Castiel looked away. That was something else he’d lied about. “I had it,” he confessed. “I retrieved it years ago.” 

“You kept it?” asked Dean. “Why?”

Eileen rolled her eyes. She’d been quiet for a while, but now, it seemed she could no longer hold her tongue. “You read the letter,” she said. She half signed, as she spoke and Castiel could tell she was angry. “If it was yours, then he kept it for you. Are we going to ignore everything he wrote? When are we going to talk about that?” 

“You all read the letter?” asked Castiel.

“Yes,” answered Eileen. “Sam and I found it before Dean. We couldn’t find Jule—you in the bunker. We knew it was a goodbye, we just…” Eileen looked close to tears again. “That was basically a suicide note. We need to talk about it.” 

Castiel saw Dean cross his arms over his chest and look at the floor. Dean was feeling defensive. This conversation made him uncomfortable. Castiel did not know how to change the subject. It made him uncomfortable too. 

“I asked you not to revive me,” said Castiel. 

“And you apologized for a lot things I’m not sure were worth apologizing for,” said Eileen. 

Castiel did not know how to respond to that. 

She stopped speaking and began signing. “There are no secrets anymore. It’s ok for us to talk about this.” 

Castiel nodded. She was right. The only thing she and Sam didn’t know about was how he took advantage of Dean. 

“She’s right,” said Sam. “We need to talk about what you wrote. I want to be clear, we’re not mad that you switched vessels and didn’t tell us it was you. I know _you_ think that’s a bad thing, but after all the lies we’ve told each other over the years, that’s pretty harmless in comparison. I think we just want to know _why_ you did it.” He looked to Eileen for confirmation.

“That’s my fault,” said Dean. 

“I know it’s your fault,” snapped Sam. “I want to know why Cas thinks it’s _his_ fault.”

“I wanted to see if Dean could love me in a different body,” said Castiel quietly. It was painful to say it out loud, but Eileen was right. Nothing was secret anymore. “It was selfish and manipulative. I was wrong to make you believe I was someone else.”

“I knew it was you,” said Dean. He said the words so quickly Castiel almost didn’t understand them. “I knew it was you, Cas,” he whispered. He took a cautious step forward. 

Castiel was rooted to the spot. Dean knew? But he seemed happy with Juliane. Was it just the body? Did it really make that much of a difference. “H-how?” he stammered. 

“After the yuki-onna. You touched my scar and I knew it was you.” Dean rubbed his hand over a spot high on his arm. 

“But we—you showed signs of romantic interest toward Juliane after that,” said Castiel. 

“Because I knew it was you,” said Dean. 

Castiel was overwhelmed again. Dean knew. Dean was attracted to Juliane’s body. Dean did not hate Castiel, just his vessel. But with bittersweet shock, Castiel realized _he_ loved his vessel. By some miracle it was restored and Lucifer was gone and the vessel was his again and that made him happy. He fought and died for Creation this vessel. It tied him to humanity and everything he loved about Earth. Now that he had it back, it felt like home. But Dean could love him in a different body, and that was what he’d wanted to know, wasn’t it? He’d thrown away so much for the hunter already; a vessel was a small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things. 

“Dean, I…” Castiel did not know the end of that sentence. Dean brought him back from the dead, restored his angelic power. Dean had feelings for him, or so it would seem. But Castiel hated himself outside of this vessel. He was not sure he could make the change again. He never meant for it to be permanent the first time. His cheeks were hot and his eyes watered. He’d just wanted to find out if his gender made a difference to Dean. Now that he knew, he wished he could forget. He took a few deep breaths before finding his voice again. “Dean, I do not want a different vessel.” 

“What?” asked Dean.

Castiel wasn’t sure if he was angry or confused. “This vessel is my home,” he explained. “I thought I could leave it—it was easier when Lucifer possessed it and I had no choice, but now that it is mine again...” He couldn’t look at Dean anymore. He didn’t want to see his expression morph to disgust. This was not a rejection; Dean would understand that. This was a confession that Castiel could not change as much as Dean wanted. “I just wanted to know if it made a difference—if you would want me in another form, but—”

Suddenly a hand was cupping his cheek. Castiel looked up and saw Dean just inches from his face. They stared at each other for a moment. Castiel was dizzy, lost in deep green eyes. Those eyes flashed quickly to Castiel’s lips and Dean leaned in, wrapping his free arm around Castiel’s waist. Dean kissed him; slow, soft, and gentle. 

When they broke apart, Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel’s as they’d done in the kitchen so many months ago. Dean was watching him, head down, eyes up, studying the angel’s face.

“I love you, Cas,” he whispered. “Right now. As you are. I love you.” 

Castiel’s mind stopped functioning properly. 

“I literally went through Hell to get you back to your vessel,” said Dean. “I don’t want you to change it ever again, unless you want to.” 

Dean’s breath was hot and sweet and he smelled like Earth. Dean loved him. Castiel was alive, he was an angel again, and Dean loved him. “I thought you—” began Castiel. 

“I was a jackass,” said Dean. “I was the one who fucked up that night, not you. I’ve loved you for years, I was just too chicken-shit to admit it.” Dean moved his arm to hold Castiel’s hand, entangling their fingers. Dean brought their hands up and pressed them against his chest. “I was a coward. I was cruel. You deserve so much more than I ever gave you.” He exhaled slowly. He was still watching Castiel. “I want to make it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

Dean loved him. Dean brought him back and Dean _wanted_ him back. Castiel was right, all those years, he’d been right. Dean was afraid, of course he was afraid. 

“Cas?” asked Dean. “You still with me?” 

Castiel realized he’d been silent for several minutes. “I am with you, Dean.” He squeezed the hunter’s hand. “I love you, too.” 

A loud sigh broke their focus. Castiel had forgotten they were not alone in the room. 

“Thank God,” said Sam. He and Eileen were standing beside one another looking equally relieved.

 

xxx

 

Dean waited for Castiel to say something. He was hyperaware of the other couple in the room. He wanted this to be private. He didn’t want to make a grand emotional display in front of his little brother. But Cas needed to know he was family. He needed Dean to prove he wasn’t ashamed or afraid to be with him anymore. 

“Cas?” he asked. “You still with me?” Cas should reject him. The angel should push him away and call Dean a fucking coward for betraying him and lying to him. Cas should come to his senses any moment and realize he deserved better than Dean Winchester. 

“I am with you, Dean,” he said. Cas squeezed his hand and Dean held his breath. “I love you, too.” 

At that, his idiot brother could no longer contain himself. “Thank God,” said Sam. 

Dean and Cas looked toward Sam and Eileen. They were huddled together as if holding vigil for the other couple’s relationship. 

“I’ve literally waited years for you guys to say that,” said Sam. “Dean, I don’t know exactly what you did, but I can guess. I know you can be a douche. I didn’t think Cas was going to forgive you.” 

“Dean made a deal with a reaper and brought him back from the dead to prove his love,” said Eileen. “Of course Castiel forgives him.” She turned to Cas and signed as she spoke. “Not that you have to forgive him.” She signed something else that looked like “owe” and “nothing.” 

Dean was suddenly grateful to have her in the family. He also realized he was still holding Cas’ hand. 

“Dean made a deal with a reaper?” asked Cas.

Shit. He didn’t even realize Eileen said it until now. How did she know? He turned to his brother who nudged Eileen and shot her a shut-up-that’s-a-secret look. 

“How do you guys know that?” asked Dean. 

“What deal?” asked Cas.

“Garth heard it from the reaper he captured,” answered Sam. “I wasn’t sure if it was true, but judging by your reaction, I guess it is. I’ve got to say Dean, that’s a shit deal.”

“We’re working on a way to get you out of it,” added Eileen.

“What is the deal?” asked Castiel, a bit more forceful this time. 

“Dean summoned Billie and made a deal with her to get her to take him to Purgatory,” said Sam. He stopped short of rolling his eyes, but Dean knew it was killing him to resist. “Billie gets his soul when he dies, whenever that might be, and she’s going to make him a Knight of Hell again.”

“Guardian,” corrected Dean.

“Same thing,” said Sam.

“But you could have died in Purgatory,” said Cas, now turning his full attention to Dean. “Or Hell for that matter.” 

Dean bit his bottom lip. This was not a detail he’d wanted to share. Damn Garth and his reaper-whispering skills, damn Eileen and her big mouth and damn Sammy for elaborating. 

Cas, without letting go of Dean, lifted his free hand and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. “She has marked your soul,” he said. “Dean, do not be alarmed. This may hurt.” He moved his hand from Dean’s forehead and grabbed him by the shoulder. 

That was all the warning he got before the pain set in. It felt like someone was pouring molten steel into him. His body burned from the inside out. He swayed, overcome by the feeling, then all at once it was gone and his body cooled. He blinked and tried to focus on Cas. The angel looked smug and all too proud of himself.

“What the Hell was that?” asked Dean.

“My mark is stronger,” answered Cas. “You are no longer bound to the reaper.” 

“Are you ok?” asked Sam. He was asking Cas and it took Dean a moment to realize why. The angel was pale and his eyes were cloudy. 

Dean put his free hand on Cas to steady him. He wanted to tell Cas to save his strength, tell Cas he shouldn’t have used his power to undo whatever Billie did. He wanted to pick a fight because that was just the Winchester way when emotions were this strong. Instead, he pulled Cas into his arms and held him. He didn’t know what to say so he kept his mouth shut and let his body lead the way.


	25. Carry on my wayward son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end...thank you all for reading and for your wonderful comments! I plan on starting a new fic soon.

Castiel was tired. He tried not to let it show, but now that his questions were answered and his curiosity satisfied, it was becoming difficult to focus. The four of them had moved to the library after Castiel removed the reaper’s claim from Dean’s soul. The hunters had taken turns going to the shower, apparently not wanting to leave Castiel alone. They sat together now, cleansed of sweat and grave dirt. 

Sam was asking questions about grace and Eileen would sign to Castiel every now and then to ask how he was feeling. Dean stayed quiet. He sat beside him with one arm resting on the back of Castiel’s chair. He smelled like soap and wore sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Castiel found that to be bizarrely distracting. 

Sam paused in the middle of a question to yawn and Dean cut in. 

“Bedtime,” said Dean. 

Sam looked as though he wanted to protest, but Dean cut him off. “No,” said Dean. “Your stupid questions are putting _you_ to sleep. If you’re tired, imagine how Lazarus over here must feel.” He moved his arm to wrap around Castiel’s shoulders. “Few things are as exhausting as resurrection.”

Eileen stood and tugged on the sleeve of Sam’s shirt, encouraging him to stand. She turned her back to Castiel and Dean and signed so that only Sam could see. 

Castiel watched her movements in the reflection of a picture hanging on the opposite wall. He watched her hands dance in the glass.

“They need to be alone,” she signed. “I am sure they have questions that are easier to answer without an audience.” 

Sam nodded, then looked to Dean. “Ok,” he said. “Bedtime.” 

They stood together, said their goodnights and Eileen and Sam hugged Castiel and welcomed him home again before leaving him alone with Dean. As soon as they were out of sight, Castiel felt Dean’s hand press against the small of his back. Castiel turned and saw Dean’s face was bright shade of pink. Blushing. Castiel recognized that reaction. It resulted from a combination of attraction and embarrassment, or at least it did when Castiel was human. 

“I know angels don’t sleep,” said Dean, “but you’ve got to be worn out.” 

Castiel nodded and saw Dean’s face flush a deeper pink. “Dean,” he said. “You are blushing.” He meant it to be a question. He wanted confirmation that he was not misreading the hunter’s emotions.

Dean huffed and bit his lip, then nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Let me guess, angels don’t blush?” 

“I suppose we do not,” answered Castiel.

Dean grinned and stepped closer. He kissed Castiel gently, then leaned in so their cheeks were touching. Castiel felt Dean’s lips brush against his skin as the hunter spoke. 

“Bet I could make an angel blush,” whispered Dean. He pressed his lips to the soft skin just below Castiel’s ear. Before he could respond, Dean trailed a line of kisses against Castiel’s jaw before finding the angel’s lips again. “I missed you, Cas,” he said. 

He could feel Dean’s heartbeat against his own chest. Dean’s hand trembled slightly as it came to rest against his cheek. His green eyes shined with the threat of tears. The hunter’s bravado quickly faded and morphed into something that could be sincerity. 

Castiel took Dean’s hand and, at the risk of pushing him too far too fast again, he led them out of the library and toward his bedroom.

 

xxx

 

Dean stopped them in front of his room. Cas turned, head tilted to the side. “Memory foam,” said Dean, nodding to his bed. All nerves and raw emotion, he pulled Cas into his room and closed the door behind them. They made it to the center of the room before Dean stopped again. Something tightened in his chest and it was hard to breathe. _Get it together, Winchester. Don’t fuck this up._  

“Dean?” Cas stood in front of him, puzzled. Of course he was confused. Dean had just said _I love you_ an hour ago in front of God and everybody and now, in the privacy of his own damn room, his body decided it was time to batten down the hatches. 

Cas frowned and stood up straight. He was disappointed. He thought Dean was backing out again. He’d realized he’d fallen for a coward and a liar. He was going to leave again. Dean wanted to explain himself, but he didn’t know where to start. 

“I know it is custom for the more experienced partner to take the lead when it comes to intimacy,” said Cas, “but, given your current state, it might behoove us to break from tradition.” He titled his head to the side. “Is that all right with you?” 

“Yeah,” answered Dean weakly. “Sorry Cas. I don’t know what happened.” Words were sticky and thick in his throat. 

“Judging by your posture, heart-rate, pallor, and pupils,” said Cas, “I would say you are afraid.” 

That felt right. Fear was not an emotion Dean could admit to by name. It was too dangerous to be afraid, though he often was. Fear could get people killed. Fear got Cas killed. Why was it happening now? 

“Perhaps I should leave,” said Cas, his frown deepening. “This may not—” 

“No!” interrupted Dean. He grabbed Cas’ hands and held them against his chest. His own hands were shaking. He suddenly felt small and pathetic. His words were coming out in choked, half-sentences. “Love you. Don’t go. Sorry. Cas, I’m sorry. Please.” 

None of it made sense. He’d thought about it for too long and now he was panicking. He could feel the adrenalin coursing through him. Maybe that would help. Fight or flight. Instinct. Maybe that’s what he needed to counter whatever triggered his meltdown.

Cas must have thought otherwise, because he moved one hand to cup Dean’s cheek, tendrils of grace seeking his soul, calming him. It wasn’t much. The angel was still weak, but it helped. Cas began walking backwards toward the bed. Dean clung to Cas’ other hand like it was a lifeline. Mercifully, his body responded automatically to being led. He was a brainless soldier. Following orders was the best he could do. _Coward and an idiot,_ he thought. 

“I am going to let go,” said Cas, “but only to remove my clothing. I understand humans sleep better with less fabric on their bodies.”

Dean nodded. Cas stripped down to his boxers, then returned his arms to the hunter. Dean let Cas hold him. He was shaking now, whole body convulsing—humiliating him, betraying him—in Castiel’s arms. Dean dropped his forehead to the angel’s shoulder, eyes shut tight. He felt lips brush against his ear. 

“Pray,” whispered Castiel. “Let me hear you.” 

“Can’t,” muttered Dean.

“Yes, you can,” whispered Cas. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You are afraid. Please tell me why.” 

Dean realized they were rocking slowly. He tried to organize his thoughts. He desperately wanted to explain himself to Cas. After everything, he couldn’t fuck up again. He focused on the angel and a mental floodgate burst.

Memories, nightmares, thoughts, hopes, dreams; everything rushed forward at once and Dean had no idea if Cas could hear him. It felt like drowning.

He was with Amara, warm, numb, mindlessly killing. He was with Crowley, confident with the Mark of Cain burning hot on his arm. He was with Benny, about to sacrifice his friend to save his brother. He was with Lisa, guilty for living, guilty for giving up. He was standing beside Alistair, strength gone and spirit fading, relieved and ashamed when the pain ended. He was crying as he confessed to Bobby he only had a year left to live. He was holding Sam, a knife in his brother’s back and blood on his hands. He was with his father; one eye swollen shut after John caught him with another boy. He cradled a baby in his arms as his father pulled him to his chest and they watched their home burn. He was with Cas, safe, in his room.

A voice pulled him back, grounding him. “With gentleness comes violence,” whispered Cas. 

Dean couldn’t speak. He was a wreck against Cas’ body, unable to stop the tears stinging his eyes. _I’m sorry Cas._

“I think we can stop apologizing to each other,” said the angel. Dean lifted his head and Cas pulled him into a hungry kiss. All at once, the fear drained from his body.

 

xxx

 

Castiel knew what was wrong the moment Dean stopped moving. The hunter’s life was ferocity and death, soothed only by an occasional embrace or soft touch. Now, they stood together, safe and happy and Dean was waiting to be punished for it. Dean’s fears were not unfounded. If Castiel was honest with himself, he expected punishment too. 

Dean broke away from the kiss to catch his breath. He was so close Castiel could feel the muscles in Dean’s face move as he smiled. Dean exhaled and whispered against his lips. “Love you, Cas.” 

“I love you, too,” said Castiel. The hunter was visibly more relaxed, but still frozen to the floor. Castiel took the liberty of pulling them both onto the bed. Dean was slow to respond, his body clearly not yet caught up with his mind. Castiel could still hear snippets of thoughts as Dean’s mind buzzed and reacted to Castiel’s movements. He wasn’t sure if Dean was aware he was still praying.

Once they were comfortable, Castiel braced his hands on either side of the pillow beneath Dean’s head. He positioned himself over Dean and slowly lowered his body to rest against the hunter. Dean’s heart beat violently between them and his pupils were blown wide. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s back, blunt nails scraping the skin along his spine. Castiel shivered and inhaled sharply. All at once Dean pulled him down, their bodies bound together by the hunter’s arms. Castiel surrendered to his human’s strength, breathless as lips met skin and legs tangled together beneath the covers.

 

xxx

 

Castiel did not remember falling asleep. He only remembered Dean and warmth, exhaustion and joy. When he awoke, his body was entangled with Dean’s, his head resting on Dean’s chest. He could tell by the rise and fall of his breaths, Dean was awake. 

“Good morning, Dean,” he said.

“Morning, Cas,” said Dean.

Castiel ran his fingers across Dean’s bare chest. He did not know exactly when Dean lost his shirt. He vaguely recalled yanking it over the hunter’s head and throwing it across the room. “What time is it?” asked Castiel. Dean probably needed to eat.

“No clue,” answered Dean. He stretched and reached over Castiel to grab his phone from the bedside table. “One in the afternoon,” said Dean. “We got a text from Eileen. She and Sam made breakfast hours ago.” He made a face. “That probably means green smoothie shit and fruit. Those two idiots are going to starve each other.” 

Castiel rolled onto his side only to find himself caught again in Dean’s arms as the hunter curled behind him. 

“I want to stay in bed.” Dean spoke into the back of Castiel’s neck and sent shivers through his vessel.

“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Castiel. 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean.

“Those are conflicting desires,” said Castiel. 

Dean laughed. “I’ve got a lot of conflicting desires.” He nipped at the skin where Castiel’s shoulder met his neck. “All right,” he said, “food, then we ditch the nerds and come back here.” 

“Agreed,” said Castiel. 

They got out of bed; Castiel reluctant to leave the warmth of the covers and Dean muttering about being unable to find his pants. Once they were decent, they left in search of Sam, Eileen and food. They found all three in the dining room. The other two hunters sat beside each other, leaning over a book. Eileen was highlighting and Sam was taking notes. There was a plate of sandwiches in front of them.

Eileen signed quickly to Castiel, eyebrows raised in a question. “All good?”

Castiel nodded.

Sam wore a similar expression as he looked to Dean. The brothers exchanged question and answer with a glance.

Dean sat down and pulled Castiel into the seat beside him, mirroring the other couple. He helped himself to a sandwich.

“You’re not going to like that one,” said Sam. Dean already had his mouth full. He made a face and Sam turned the plate. “These are for you,” said Sam, gesturing to what looked like a stack of bread, meat and cheese, “and these are for Cas.” He pointed to another stack that Castiel identified as peanut butter and jelly.

A very human urge settled in Castiel’s stomach and he took a sandwich. “Thank you, Sam.”

“What are you guys doing?” asked Dean, nodding to the book.

“Trying to figure out what Hell will do without a leader,” answered Sam. “No one has heard from Crowley and Lucifer died, right?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean. “As far as I know Crowley’s dead, Lucifer’s dead, Amara is dead and God is dead.”

Castiel stomach lurched. He, Eileen and Sam stared at Dean. Castiel’s appetite was gone.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh shit,” he said. “Did I not tell anybody that? I don’t know if it’s true. That’s just what Amara said.”

“Way to bury the fucking lead,” said Sam. “When did you find out?”

“Right before she drug my ass to Jerusalem,” answered Dean. “So I while ago I guess.” 

Castiel gripped Dean’s arm. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asked. 

“I was a little preoccupied,” answered Dean. “Family tragedies beat celestial tragedies.” 

“What does that mean for Heaven and Hell?” asked Eileen. 

“And Earth and Purgatory?” asked Sam.

Dean looked at Castiel and the angel realized they were talking to him. He shrugged. “I have no idea,” answered Castiel. “I did not know he could die. Although,” he paused, frowning, “it should have been obvious now that I think about it. If his sister could die, of course he could die—unless both survived.” 

“Great,” said Dean. “A new day, a new shit-show.” 

“Can we confirm one way or another?” asked Eileen.

“Metatron would know,” said Castiel.

Both Sam and Dean groaned.

“Michael would also know,” continued Castiel. “I believe he is still in the cage in Hell. Considering we do not know Metatron’s location, but we do know Michael’s, I suggest we contact him.”

“Fuck my life,” muttered Dean.

“Alternatively,” said Castiel, “Sam, you could pray to Gabriel.”

“I thought Gabriel was dead,” said Sam. 

“I’m not sure,” said Castiel. “I would ask him myself, but I’m not sure I can contact him without alerting others to his location.” 

“Why do I have to do it?” asked Sam.

“He likes you best,” answered Castiel. Beside him, Dean erupted in laughter and juvenile finger-pointing.

Sam muttered something under his breath and glared at his brother. 

“New plan,” said Eileen. “We need to do a head-count and figure out who is alive and who is dead.” 

“You guys get started on that,” said Dean. “Cas, you’re with me. There’re bunch of old spell books in the war room.”

Dean rose from his chair and Castiel followed. As soon as they were out of sight of Eileen and Sam, Dean grabbed him and pressed him against the wall, trapping him in a kiss. Dean caught Castiel’s lower lip in his teeth and lingered before releasing him. 

“I thought we were going to the war room,” said Castiel, somewhat stunned and a little breathless. 

“We are.” Dean’s voice was low and electric. “I just wanted to do that before we end the world again.” 

“We’ve yet to actually end the world,” said Castiel. 

Dean shrugged. “You never know,” he said. “God’s dead and a fallen angel and ex-demon are making out in the Men of Letters bunker. No telling what comes next.” 

Castiel hummed to himself, enjoying the warmth of Dean’s body against his own. The familiar primal urges of his vessel were beginning to take control. “I have faith,” said Castiel. “Humanity always seems to win in the end.”


End file.
